ANNA—[Dully.]—Well, there ain't no chance. But I'm glad you think different about it, anyway.
CHRIS—[Supplicatingly.] And you tank—maybe—you forgive me sometime?
ANNA—[With a wan smile.] I'll forgive you right now.
CHRIS—[Seizing her hand and kissing it—brokenly.] Anna lilla! Anna lilla!
ANNA—[Touched but a bit embarrassed.] Don't bawl about it. There ain't nothing to forgive, anyway. It ain't your fault, and it ain't mine, and it ain't his neither. We're all poor nuts, and things happen, and we yust get mixed in wrong, that's all.
CHRIS—[Eagerly.] You say right tang, Anna, py golly! It ain't nobody's fault! [Shaking his fist.] It's dat ole davil, sea!
ANNA—[With an exasperated laugh.] Gee, won't you ever can that stuff? [CHRIS relapses into injured silence. After a pause ANNA continues curiously.] You said a minute ago you'd fixed something up—about me. What was it?
CHRIS—[After a hesitating pause.] Ay'm shipping avay on sea again, Anna.
ANNA—[Astounded.] You're—what?
CHRIS—Ay sign on steamer sail to-morrow. Ay gat my ole yob—bo'sun. [ANNA stares at him. As he goes on, a bitter smile comes over her face.] Ay tank dat's best tang for you. Ay only bring you bad luck, Ay tank. Ay make your mo'der's life sorry. Ay don't vant make yours dat way, but Ay do yust same. Dat ole davil, sea, she make me Yonah man ain't no good for nobody. And Ay tank now it ain't no use fight with sea. No man dat live going to beat her, py yingo!