at did you do then?

RUTH. [With a shrug] Tried the same as when I left him before...,
making skirts... cheap things. It was the best I could get, but I
never made more than ten shillings a week, buying my own cotton and
working all day; I hardly ever got to bed till past twelve. I kept
at it for nine months. [Fiercely] Well, I'm not fit for that; I
wasn't made for it. I'd rather die.

COKESON. My dear woman! We mustn't talk like that.

RUTH. It was starvation for the children too--after what they'd
always had. I soon got not to care. I used to be too tired. [She is
silent]

COKESON. [With fearful curiosity] Why, what happened then?

RUTH. [With a laugh] My employer happened then--he's happened ever
since.

COKESON. Dear! Oh dear! I never came across a thing like this.

RUTH. [Dully] He's treated me all right. But I've done with that.
[Suddenly her lips begin to quiver, and she hides them with the back
of her hand] I never thought I'd see him again, you see. It was just
a chance I met him by Hyde Park. We went in there and sat down, and
he told me all about himself. Oh! Mr. Cokeson, give him another
chance.

COKESON. [Greatly disturbed] Then you've both lost your livings!
What a horrible position!

RUTH. If he could only get here--where there's nothing to find out
about him!

COKESON. We can't have anything derogative to the firm.

RUTH. I've no one else to go to.

COKESON. I'll speak to the partners, but I don't think they'll take
him, under the circumstances. I don't really.

RUTH. He came with me; he's down there in the street. [She points to
the window.]

COKESON. [On his dignity] He shouldn't have done that until he's
sent for. [Then softening at the look on her face] We've got a
vacancy, as it happens, but I can't promise anything.

RUTH. It would be the saving of him.

COKESON. Well, I'll do what I can, but I'm not sanguine. Now tell
him that I don't want him till I see how things are. Leave your
address? [Repeating her] 83 Mullingar Street? [He notes it on
blotting-paper] Good-morning.

RUTH. Thank you.

She moves towards the door, turns as if to speak, but does not,
and goes away.

COKESON. [Wiping his head and forehead with a large white cotton
handkerchief] What a business! [Then looking amongst his papers, he
sounds his bell. SWEEDLE answers it]

COKESON. Was that young Richards coming here to-day after the
clerk's place?