JOE. [Passionately.] I've done nothing wrong—I haven't drunk or gambled—I can't help being only a clerk, and unable to do heavy work! I can't help my lungs being weak! I've a wife and a child, like other people—and all we ask is to be allowed to live!
MARY. [Pleading.] Let's give it up, Joe. Go away together, you'd sleep without coughing. Sleep, that's all. And God will be kinder than men.
JOE. [Groaning.] Don't, Mary—don't!
MARY. Joe, I can't stand it any longer—I can't. Not only myself—but Minnie—Joe, it's too much for me! I can't stand Minnie crying, and asking me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning. Joe, dear Joe, let there be no morning!
JOE. [Completely overcome.] Oh, Mary, Mary!
MARY. It's not your fault, dear—you've done what you could. Not your fault they won't let you work—you've tried hard enough. And no woman ever had a better husband than you've been to me. I love you, dear Joe. And let's do it—let's make an end. And take Minnie with us.
JOE. [Springing up.] Mary, I'll steal something to-morrow.
MARY. And they'd send you to prison. Besides, then God would be angry. Now we can go to Him and need not be ashamed. Let us, dear Joe—oh, do let us! I'm so tired!
JOE. No.
MARY. [Sorrowfully.] You won't?