Quinn—The things I told you about him were true then? He was no fit man to marry a decent girl!
Molly—Father, father, don't say that!
(Mrs. Quinn enters.)
Quinn—(Working himself into a rage.) The fine gentleman has left Molly. All his grand love makin' to end in two years, tho Gawd knows I didn't expect it to last that long. (To Molly.) Why hadn't ye sense enough not to be gulled by him? Didn't I tell ye, he was a rogue and a scoundrel? Chucked aside for another woman, I suppose ye were! Left ye, left ye—
Mrs. Quinn—Ye blunderin' idiot, last Tuesday the boy died.
Quinn—(Helplessly.) Died? I—I thought—(to Molly.) Sit down—drink the tea.... Is—is there an egg for her?
Mrs. Quinn—There's no eggs here. The hens went on strike with the trolley men. Let me help you off with yer coat, Molly. What have ye done to yer arm? What's that bandage on yer arm for?
Molly—You remember, I told you in my last letter, mother—
Quinn—(Sourly.) So ye've been writin', hev ye?
Mrs. Quinn—D'ye think a mother will let her only child slip easily out of her heart and life?