RUTH. And then I thought that when Mary came it’d be different, and I’d love him; but it didn’t happen that way. And I couldn’t bear with his blundering and book-reading—and I grew to hate him, almost.
ANDREW. Ruth!
RUTH. I couldn’t help it. No woman could. It had to be because I loved someone else, I’d found out. (She sighs wearily) It can’t do no harm to tell you now—when it’s all past and gone—and dead. You were the one I really loved—only I didn’t come to the knowledge of it ’til too late.
ANDREW. (stunned) Ruth! Do you know what you’re saying?
RUTH. It was true—then. (With sudden fierceness) How could I help it? No woman could.
ANDREW. Then—you loved me—that time I came home?
RUTH. (doggedly) I’d known your real reason for leaving home the first time—everybody knew it—and for three years I’d been thinking——
ANDREW. That I loved you?
RUTH. Yes. Then that day on the hill you laughed about what a fool you’d been for loving me once—and I knew it was all over.
ANDREW. Good God, but I never thought—— (He stops, shuddering at his remembrance) And did Rob——