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and slowly walks over to her, looking down at her. Then, bending still lower, she begins to cry._] GIBSON: Well, Nora, what was the matter with it? NORA [_not looking up_]: I don't know. What was? GIBSON: You needed a manager to do what I had been doing. NORA: Couldn't we have learned? Couldn't one of us? GIBSON: One of you did--Hill. NORA: But he left! GIBSON: Why did Hill leave? NORA: Other people offered him more money. GIBSON: Yes; he was the one man that all the rest of you depended on. He was worth more. NORA: But were you worth all that you took? You took all that the business made. GIBSON: Yes; and last year it was fifty thousand. NORA: Were you actually worth that much to it? GIBSON: Other men in the business think so. [_Shows her a letter._] Here's an offer from the Coles-Hibbard people, out in Cleveland, of that much salary to do for them what I did here. NORA: It isn't right; you pay labour only what you have to pay. GIBSON: The Coles-Hibbard people offer to pay me what they'd have to, and they're pretty hard-headed men. The whole world pays only what it has to. NORA: It isn't right! It isn't right! GIBSON: Last winter I saw you in a three-dollar seat listening to Caruso. Have you ever given that much to the organ grinder who comes under these windows? NORA: Will it always be so? GIBSON: I don't know. But it's so now. NORA: But will the plan _always_ fail? GIBSON: I think it will until human beings are as near alike as the ants and bees are. Your system is in full effect with them, but we--we strive; even in this fellowship here of yours the striving began to show. NORA [_looking up at him appealingly_]: But are these inequalities _right_? GIBSON [_gently, rather sadly_]: I don't know. I only know what is. NORA: Well--I'm whipped. [_Smiles ruefully, away from him; then she turns again to him._] Are you going to accept that offer? GIBSON: What do you say? [_Her head droops again. Angry voices are heard, growing louder as they approach. The door is thrown open, and the members of the committee, noisily talking, appear in the doorway._] FRANKEL: It was a bum deal all through! SHOMBERG: Shovin' his run-down factory off onto us! RILEY [_fiercely_]: You never give us no deed to this plant, Mr. Gibson! SIMPSON: They ain't a court in the land'll hold us to it! CARTER: No, sir; and we've voted this is your fact
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