Hank [going up the stairs]. I'll fetch it you, m'am.
[She comes down to meet him and the two are momentarily hidden from the audience. Lon continues to drink steadily, pouring down one glass after another. Hank reappears, treading with a certain gayety, and goes out rear, whistling the Tennessee "warble."]
Padie [leaning out of the shadow of the stairway toward her husband]. Ain't you comin' up soon, Lon?
Lon [ignoring the query]. Scarcely no resemblance whatever.
Padie [with sudden fierceness]. You lie!
[She ascends to the top of the landing. Outside a pump cranks dismally.]
Padie [relenting a little]. You'll be seein' things, Lon, if you keep it up.
Lon [rising, perfectly steady]. Mind your business. Wish to hell I had a newspaper.
[He goes out through the door to the Bar, while Padie runs a comb reflectively through the exuberant tumult of her dark hair. Hank enters and stops a moment, half blinded by the light, then looks up, and shading his eyes, smiles.]
Padie [coyly]. Is it the light in your eyes, mister?