ANNA—[Deeply moved and troubled—forcing a trembling laugh.] So you told him that, Mat? No wonder he was mad. [Forcing out the words.] Well, maybe it's true, Mat. Maybe I do. I been thinking and thinking—I didn't want to, Mat, I'll own up to that—I tried to cut it out—but—[She laughs helplessly.] I guess I can't help it anyhow. So I guess I do, Mat. [Then with a sudden joyous defiance.] Sure I do! What's the use of kidding myself different? Sure I love you, Mat!
CHRIS—[With a cry of pain.] Anna! [He sits crushed.]
BURKE—[With a great depth of sincerity in his humble gratitude.] God be praised!
ANNA—[Assertively.] And I ain't never loved a man in my life before, you can always believe that—no matter what happens.
BURKE—[Goes over to her and puts his arms around her.] Sure I do be believing ivery word you iver said or iver will say. And 'tis you and me will be having a grand, beautiful life together to the end of our days! [He tries to kiss her. At first she turns away her head—then, overcome by a fierce impulse of passionate love, she takes his head in both her hands and holds his face close to hers, staring into his eyes. Then she kisses him full on the lips.]
ANNA—[Pushing him away from her—forcing a broken laugh.] Good-bye. [She walks to the doorway in rear—stands with her back toward them, looking out. Her shoulders quiver once or twice as if she were fighting back her sobs.]
BURKE—[Too in the seventh heaven of bliss to get any correct interpretation of her word—with a laugh.] Good-bye, is it? The divil you say! I'll be coming back at you in a second for more of the same! [To CHRIS, who has quickened to instant attention at his daughter's good-bye, and has looked back at her with a stirring of foolish hope in his eyes.] Now, me old bucko, what'll you be saying? You heard the words from her own lips. Confess I've bate you. Own up like a man when you're bate fair and square. And here's my hand to you—[Holds out his hand.] And let you take it and we'll shake and forget what's over and done, and be friends from this out.
CHRIS—[With implacable hatred.] Ay don't shake hands vith you fallar—not vhile Ay live!
BURKE—[Offended.] The back of my hand to you then, if that suits you better. [Growling.] 'Tis a rotten bad loser you are, divil mend you!
CHRIS—Ay don't lose—[Trying to be scornful and self-convincing.] Anna say she like you little bit but you don't hear her say she marry you, Ay bet. [At the sound of her name ANNA has turned round to them. Her face is composed and calm again, but it is the dead calm of despair.]