ANNA—[With a harsh laugh.] So I'm driving you to drink, too, eh? I s'pose you want to get drunk so's you can forget—like him?
CHRIS—[Bursting out angrily.] Yes, Ay vant! You tank Ay like hear dem tangs. [Breaking down—weeping.] Ay tank you vasn't dat kind of gel, Anna.
ANNA—[Mockingly.] And I s'pose you want me to beat it, don't you? You don't want me here disgracing you, I s'pose?
CHRIS—No, you stay here! [Goes over and pats her on the shoulder, the tears running down his face.] Ain't your fault, Anna, Ay know dat. [She looks up at him, softened. He bursts into rage.] It's dat ole davil, sea, do this to me! [He shakes his fist at the door.] It's her dirty tricks! It vas all right on barge with yust you and me. Den she bring dat Irish fallar in fog, she make you like him, she make you fight with me all time! If dat Irish fallar don't never come, you don't never tal me dem tangs, Ay don't never know, and every tang's all right. [He shakes his fist again,] Dirty ole davil!
ANNA—[With spent weariness.] Oh, what's the use? Go on ashore and get drunk.
CHRIS—[Goes into room on left and gets his cap. He goes to the door, silent and stupid—then turns.] You vait here, Anna?
ANNA—[Dully] Maybe—and maybe not. Maybe I'll get drunk, too. Maybe I'll—But what the hell do you care what I do? Go on and beat it. [CHRIS turns stupidly and goes out. ANNA sits at the table, staring straight in front of her.]
[The Curtain Falls]