BURKE—[Argumentatively.] But there's good jobs and bad jobs at sea, like there'd be on land. I'm thinking if it's in the stokehole of a proper liner I was, I'd be able to have a little house and be home to it wan week out of four. And I'm thinking that maybe then I'd have the luck to find a fine dacent girl—the like of yourself, now—would be willing to wed with me.
ANNA—[Turning away from him with a short laugh—uneasily.] Why, sure. Why not?
BURKE—[Edging up close to her—exultantly.] Then you think a girl the like of yourself might maybe not mind the past at all but only be seeing the good herself put in me?
ANNA—[In the same tone.] Why, sure.
BURKE—[Passionately.] She'd not be sorry for it, I'd take my oath! 'Tis no more drinking and roving about I'd be doing then, but giving my pay day into her hand and staying at home with her as meek as a lamb each night of the week I'd be in port.
ANNA—[Moved in spite of herself and troubled by this half-concealed proposal—with a forced laugh.] All you got to do is find the girl.
BURKE—I have found her!
ANNA—[Half-frightenedly—trying to laugh it off.] You have? When? I thought you was saying—
BURKE—[Boldly and forcefully.] This night. [Hanging his head—humbly.] If she'll be having me. [Then raising his eyes to hers—simply.] 'Tis you I mean.
ANNA—[Is held by his eyes for a moment—then shrinks back from him with a strange, broken laugh.] Say—are you—going crazy? Are you trying to kid me? Proposing—to me!—for Gawd's sake!—on such short acquaintance? [CHRIS comes out of the cabin and stands staring blinkingly astern. When he makes out ANNA in such intimate proximity to this strange sailor, an angry expression comes over his face.]