MRS. KEENEY (dully). I hate the organ. It puts me in mind of home.
KEENEY (a touch of resentment in his voice). I got it jest for you.
MRS. KEENEY (dully). I know. (She turns away from them and walks slowly to the bench on left. She lifts up one of the curtains and looks through a porthole; then utters an exclamation of joy.) Ah, water! Clear water! As far as I can see! How good it looks after all these months of ice! (She turns round to them, her face transfigured with joy.) Ah, now I must go upon deck and look at it, David.
KEENEY (frowning). Best not to-day, Annie. Best wait for a day when the sun shines.
MRS. KEENEY (desperately). But the sun never shines in this terrible place.
KEENEY (a tone of command in his voice). Best not to-day, Annie.
MRS. KEENEY (crumbling before this command—abjectly). Very well,
David.
(She stands there staring straight before her as if in a daze. The two men look at her uneasily.)
KEENEY (sharply). Annie!
MRS. KEENEY (dully). Yes, David.