ANNA—Not on your life, it wasn't. It was true for two years. I didn't go wrong all at one jump. Being a nurse girl was yust what finished me. Taking care of other people's kids, always listening to their bawling and crying, caged in, when you're only a kid yourself and want to go out and see things. At last I got the chance—to get into that house. And you bet your life I took it! [Defiantly.] And I ain't sorry neither. [After a pause—with bitter hatred.] It was all men's fault—the whole business. It was men on the farm ordering and beating me—and giving me the wrong start. Then when I was a nurse, it was men again hanging around, bothering me, trying to see what they could get. [She gives a hard laugh.] And now it's men all the time. Gawd, I hate 'em all, every mother's son of 'em! Don't you?
MARTHY—Oh, I dunno. There's good ones and bad ones, kid. You've just had a run of bad luck with 'em, that's all. Your Old Man, now—old Chris—he's a good one.
ANNA—[Sceptically.] He'll have to show me.
MARTHY—Yuh kept right on writing him yuh was a nurse girl still, even after yuh was in the house, didn't yuh?
ANNA—Sure. [Cynically.] Not that I think he'd care a darn.
MARTHY—Yuh're all wrong about him, kid, [Earnestly.] I know Old Chris well for a long time. He's talked to me 'bout you lots o' times. He thinks the world o' you, honest he does.
ANNA—Aw, quit the kiddin'!
MARTHY—Honest! Only, he's a simple old guy, see? He's got nutty notions. But he means well, honest. Listen to me, kid—[She is interrupted by the opening and shutting of the street door in the bar and by hearing CHRIS' voice.] Ssshh!
ANNA—What's up?
CHRIS—[Who has entered the bar. He seems considerably sobered up.] Py golly, Larry, dat grub taste good. Marthy in back?