Dawn of the next day. At the rise of the curtain Jinny is by the open window, whose curtains she has thrown aside. The sky is blood-red and streaked with gold the moment before sunrise. Jinny is worn and haggard, with hair dishevelled.
Jinny. [Turning and leaning against the window.] Day at last! What a night—what a night—but now it's morning and he hasn't come back! He means it! And it's my own fault—it's my own fault! [She shivers. She closes the window and comes away. After a moment's pause she goes deliberately and looks at the several gas fixtures in the room. She then closes all the doors and locks them. She carefully draws down the shade and closes in the curtains of the window. She hesitates, then pulls aside the curtains and the shade, and takes a long, last look at the dawn. She closes it all in again. She gets Austin's picture from the desk and places it on the table near the centre of the room. She then goes to the gas bracket at the Right and turns on the gas. She lights it to see if the gas is all right; then blows it out. She then crosses to the other bracket and turns that on; she goes to the chandelier at centre, and, mounting a chair, turns on its three jets. She then sits down by the table with Austin's picture before her, and looking into its eyes, her elbows on the table, her head in her hands, she waits.] Oh, Jack, my beloved! I couldn't help it—I never for one minute stopped loving you better than everything else in my life, but no more than I could stop loving you could I stop or help being jealous! Once the cruel idea has got hold of me it seems to have to work its way out! Everything gets red before me and I don't seem to know what I say or do! It's no excuse, I know. I've got no excuse, only I love you! You'll forgive me when I'm gone, won't you, Jack? You'll know I loved you!—loved you so I couldn't live without you!—loved you!—loved you! [She kisses the photograph tenderly, adoringly, slowly, in tears.] Loved—you—loved you!—loved—
[Her head drops forward, as
THE CURTAIN FALLS
The same morning, three hours later. The curtain rises on the same scene in a dull, cold, early morning light. The lamp has burnt itself out.
A tiny ray of sunlight steals through a slip between the curtains. Jinny sits by the table, her arms spread over it and her head on her arms—she is perfectly still. Austin's picture is before her. There is a moment's silence. Voices are heard outside, approaching door, at Right. Gradually what they say is distinguished.
Maggie. No, sir. She hasn't been to bed; I've been to her bedroom—that door's not unlocked.