o days just past had been ones of suffering
and sleepless nights. She stares before her despondently, her chin in
her hands. There is a timid knock on the door in rear. ANNA jumps to
her feet with a startled exclamation and looks toward the door with an
expression of mingled hope and fear.

ANNA--[Faintly.] Come in. [Then summoning her courage--more
resolutely.] Come in. [The door is opened and CHRIS appears in the
doorway. He is in a very bleary, bedraggled condition, suffering from
the after effects of his drunk. A tin pail full of foaming beer is in
his hand. He comes forward, his eyes avoiding ANNA'S. He mutters
stupidly.] It's foggy.

ANNA--[Looking him over with contempt.] So you come back at last, did
you? You're a fine looking sight! [Then jeeringly.] I thought you'd
beaten it for good on account of the disgrace I'd brought on you.

CHRIS--[Wincing-faintly.] Don't say dat, Anna, please! [He sits in a
chair by the table, setting down the can of beer, holding his head in
his hands]

ANNA--[Looks at him with a certain sympathy.] What's the trouble?
Feeling sick?

CHRIS--[Dully.] Inside my head feel sick.

ANNA--Well, what d'you expect after being soused for two days?
[Resentfully.] It serves you right. A fine thing--you leaving me alone
on this barge all that time!

CHRIS--[Humbly.] Ay'm sorry, Anna.

ANNA--[Scornfully] Sorry!

CHRIS--But Ay'm not sick inside head vay you mean. Ay'm sick from tank
too much about you, about me.

ANNA--And how about me? D'you suppose I ain't been thinking, too?

CHRIS--Ay'm sorry, Anna. [He sees her bag and gives a start] You pack
your bag, Anna? You vas going--?

ANNA--[Forcibly.] Yes, I was going right back to what you think.

CHRIS--Anna!

ANNA--I went ashore to get a train for New York. I'd been waiting and
waiting 'till I was sick of it. Then I changed my mind and decided not
to go to-day. But I'm going first thing to-morrow, so it'll all be the
same in the end.

CHRIS--[Raising his head--pleadingly] No, you never do dat, Anna!

ANNA--[With a sneer.] Why not, I'd like to know?

CHRIS--You don't never gat to do--dat vay--no more, Ay tal you. Ay fix
dat up all right.

ANNA--[Suspiciously.] Fix what up?

CHRIS--[Not seeming to have heard her question--sadly.] You vas
vaiting, you say? You vasn't vaiting for me, Ay bet.

ANNA--[Callously.] You'd win.

CHRIS--For dat Irish fallar?

ANNA--[Defiantly.] Yes--if you want to know! [Then with a forlorn
laugh.