Let me to Thy bosom fly.
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O, my Saviour, hide
Till the storm of life is past.
Safe into the haven guide,
O, receive my soul at last."
Rosie's hands drop from her hips as the song begins. The dancing impulse passes from her limbs. Even the muscles of her face harden convulsively.
Rosie (hysterically). Oh, I can't stand that, Murphy. For Gawd's sake, can't you stop it?
She starts over toward the machine impulsively. Then something catches her, she pauses and is held a moment while a superstitious awe makes her eyes again the big roundness of childhood's wonder. She draws the back of her hand across her forehead in an endeavor to bring herself out of the daze.