(He avoids her eyes, which search his face pleadingly.)
MURRAY (mumbling). He wasn't good enough—to lace your shoes—nor anyone else, either.
EILEEN (with a nervous laugh). Don't be silly. (After a pause, during which she waits hungrily for some word from him—with a sigh of despair—faintly.) Well, I've told you—all there is. I might as well go back.
MURRAY (not looking at her—indistinctly). Yes. You mustn't lose too much sleep. I'll come to your cottage in the morning to say good-bye. They'll permit that, I guess.
EILEEN (stands looking at him imploringly, her face convulsed with anguish, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the rocks at his feet. Finally she seems to give up and takes a few uncertain steps up the road towards the right—in an exhausted whisper). Good night, Stephen.
MURRAY (his voice choked and husky). Good night, Eileen.
EILEEN (walks weakly up the road, but, as she passes the signpost, she suddenly stops and turns to look again at Murray, who has not moved or lifted his eyes. A great shuddering sob shatters her pent-up emotions. She runs back to Murray, her arms outstretched, with a choking cry). Stephen!
MURRAY (startled, whirls to face her and finds her arms thrown around his neck—in a terrified tone). Eileen!
EILEEN (brokenly). I love you, Stephen—you! That's what I wanted to tell!
(She gazes up into his eyes, her face transfigured by the joy and pain of this abject confession.)