[He looks at her pathetically, waiting, hoping that she will look up. His face is intense with longing. After a short interval he gives it up. He turns sadly and goes toward the door at the left, passing in back of the table.]
Mrs. Madden [taking another chocolate and looking after him. He has almost reached the door]. Jim. [He stops and turns eagerly.] You ain't such a bad ol' boy. [His face is suddenly radiant. He takes several steps back toward her, bringing him behind the table. She has looked down at her book again. Coaxingly.] Goin' t' take me t' Horseman's t'night f'r lobster?
[All the eagerness, the radiance, vanishes from his face.—He sits down heavily in the chair behind the table. He looks at her, uncomprehending, hurt, disillusionized.]
Mrs. Madden [without looking up]. An' say—[She puts another chocolate in her mouth. Speaking through it thickly.] I'm jus' dyin' t' see a real ... comical ... show.
[Madden's head droops. He looks at his wife dumbly, then back at the table. His left hand goes out toward the bills; then he drops both elbows limply on the table, resting his weight on them. Mrs. Madden does not look up, but continues to read and munch a chocolate cream. Madden stares in front of him miserably, hopelessly as
The Curtain Falls.]