Miracle metal

           "Butcanwegetawaywithit?"askedWesleyMouch.Hisvoicewashighwithangerandthinwithfear.

           Nobodyansweredhim.JamesTaggartsatontheedgeofanarmchair,notmoving,lookingupathimfromunderhisforehead,OrrenBoylegaveavicioustapagainstanashtray,shakingtheashoffhiscigar.Dr.FloydFerrissmiled.Mr.Weatherbyfoldedhislipsandhands.FredKinnan,headoftheAmalgamatedLaborofAmerica,stoppedpacingtheoffice,satdownonthewindowsillandcrossedhisarms.EugeneLawson,whohadsathuncheddownward,absent-mindedlyrearrangingadisplayofflowersonalowglasstable,raisedhistorsoresentfullyandglancedup.Mouchsatathisdesk,withhisfistonasheetofpaper.

           ItwasEugeneLawsonwhoanswered."That’snot,itseemstome,thewaytoputit.Wemustnotletvulgardifficultiesobstructourfeelingthatit’sanobleplanmotivatedsolelybythepublicwelfare.It’sforthegoodofthepeople.Thepeopleneedit.Needcomesfirst,sowedon’thavetoconsideranythingelse."

           Nobodyobjectedorpickeditup;theylookedasifLawsonhadmerelymadeithardertocontinuethediscussion.Butasmallmanwhosatunobtrusivelyinthebestarmchairoftheroom,apartfromtheothers,contenttobeignoredandfullyawarethatnoneofthemcouldbeunconsciousofhispresence,glancedatLawson,thenatMouch,andsaidwithbriskcheerfulness,"That’stheline,Wesley.