Keeney [disturbed]. Go in and rest, Annie. You're all worn out cryin' over what can't be helped.
Mrs. Keeney [suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him]. You love me, don't you, David?
Keeney [in amazed embarrassment at this outburst]. Love you? Why d'you ask me such a question, Annie?
Mrs. Keeney [shaking him fiercely]. But you do, don't you, David? Tell me!
Keeney. I'm your husband, Annie, and you're my wife. Could there be aught but love between us after all these years?
Mrs. Keeney [shaking him again—still more fiercely]. Then you do love me. Say it!
Keeney [simply]. I do, Annie.
Mrs. Keeney [gives a sigh of relief—her hands drop to her sides. Keeney regards her anxiously. She passes her hand across her eyes and murmurs half to herself]: I sometimes think if we could only have had a child—[Keeney turns away from her, deeply moved. She grabs his arm and turns him around to face her—intensely.] And I've always been a good wife to you, haven't I, David?
Keeney [his voice betraying his emotion]. No man has ever had a better, Annie.
Mrs. Keeney. And I've never asked for much from you, have I, David? Have I?