EILEEN (shaking her head). No, it isn't that. (She looks at him as if imploring him to comprehend.)
MURRAY (furiously). Of course, you'd deny it. You always do. But don't you suppose I've got eyes? It's been the same damn thing all the time you've been here. After every nagging letter—thank God they don't write often any more!—you've been all in; and after their Sunday visits—you can thank God they've been few, too—you're utterly knocked out. It's a shame! The selfish swine!
EILEEN. Stephen!
MURRAY (relentlessly.) Don't be sentimental, Eileen. You know it's true. From what you've told me of their letters, their visits—from what I've seen and suspected—they've done nothing but worry and torment you and do their best to keep you from getting well.
EILEEN (faintly). You're not fair, Stephen.
MURRAY. Rot! When it isn't your father grumbling about expense, it's the kids, or that stupid housekeeper, or that slick Aleck, Nicholls, with his cowardly lies. Which is it this time?
EILEEN (pitifully). None of them.
MURRAY (explosively). But him, especially—the dirty cad! Oh, I've got a rich notion to pay a call on that gentleman when I leave and tell him what I think of him.
EILEEN (quickly). No—you mustn't ever! He's not to blame. If you knew—— (She stops, lowering her eyes in confusion.)
MURRAY (roughly). Knew what? You make me sick, Eileen—always finding excuses for him. I never could understand what a girl like you could see—— But what's the use? I've said all this before. You're wasting yourself on a—— (Rudely.) Love must be blind. And yet you say you don't love him, really?