ROBERT. Oh, everything’ll be on a sound footing after harvest. Don’t worry about it.
ANDREW. (doubtfully) Maybe. (After a pause) It’s too bad Pa couldn’t have lived to see things through. (With feeling) It cut me up a lot—hearing he was dead. He never—softened up, did he—about me, I mean?
ROBERT. He never understood, that’s a kinder way of putting it. He does now.
ANDREW. (after a pause) You’ve forgotten all about what—caused me to go, haven’t you, Rob? (ROBERT nods but keeps his face averted) I was a slushier damn fool in those days than you were. But it was an act of Providence I did go. It opened my eyes to how I’d been fooling myself. Why, I’d forgotten all about—that—before I’d been at sea six months.
ROBERT. (turns and looks into ANDREW’S eyes searchingly) You’re speaking of—Ruth?
ANDREW. (confused) Yes. I didn’t want you to get false notions in your head, or I wouldn’t say anything. (Looking ROBERT squarely in the eyes) I’m telling you the truth when I say I’d forgotten long ago. It don’t sound well for me, getting over things so easy, but I guess it never really amounted to more than a kid idea I was letting rule me. I’m certain now I never was in love—I was getting fun out of thinking I was—and being a hero to myself. (He heaves a great sigh of relief) There! Gosh, I’m glad that’s off my chest. I’ve been feeling sort of awkward ever since I’ve been home, thinking of what you two might think. (A trace of appeal in his voice) You’ve got it all straight now, haven’t you, Rob?
ROBERT. (in a low voice) Yes, Andy.
ANDREW. And I’ll tell Ruth, too, if I can get up the nerve. She must feel kind of funny having me round—after what used to be—and not knowing how I feel about it.
ROBERT. (slowly) Perhaps—for her sake—you’d better not tell her.
ANDREW. For her sake? Oh, you mean she wouldn’t want to be reminded of my foolishness? Still, I think it’d be worse if——