ANDREW. (seeming to relax suddenly all over his body—in a low, steady voice) Then you know why I got to go; and there’s nothing more to be said.
ROBERT. (in a frenzy of rebellion) Why did this have to happen to us? It’s damnable! (He looks about him wildly, as if his vengeance were seeking the responsible fate).
ANDREW. (soothingly—again putting his hands on his brother’s shoulder) It’s no use fussing any more, Rob. It’s done. (Forcing a smile) I guess Ruth’s got a right to have who she likes. She made a good choice—and God bless her for it!
ROBERT. Andy! Oh, I wish I could tell you half I feel of how fine you are!
ANDREW. (interrupting him quickly) Shut up! Let’s go to bed. I’ve got to be up long before sun-up. You, too, if you’re going to drive us down.
ROBERT. Yes. Yes.
ANDREW. (turning down the lamp) And I’ve got to pack yet. (He yawns with utter weariness) I’m as tired as if I’d been plowing twenty-four hours at a stretch. (Dully) I feel—dead. (ROBERT covers his face again with his hands. ANDREW shakes his head as if to get rid of his thoughts, and continues with a poor attempt at cheery briskness) I’m going to douse the light. Come on. (He slaps his brother on the back. ROBERT does not move. ANDREW bends over and blows out the lamp. His voice comes from the darkness) Don’t sit there mourning, Rob. It’ll all come out in the wash. Come on and get some sleep. Everything’ll turn out all right in the end. (ROBERT can be heard stumbling to his feet, and the dark figures of the two brothers can be seen groping their way toward the doorway in the rear as