Janet (Defiantly). They went away ’cos he was always gettin’ sick.
Mrs. Ransome. Of course he was always gettin’ sick—with all them devils makin’ fun of him—an’ makin’ his life a misery. Didn’t we used to see him goin’ down the block—with the tears runnin’ down his cheeks—an’ all of ’em yellin’ names after him. Just think of the baby you’re goin’ to have. D’ye want that to happen to your baby? D’ye want them to make its life a misery—same as the other one?
Janet (Lifelessly). They wouldn’t.
Mrs. Ransome. Of course they would. They’ll tease an’ torment it, just like the other—an’ when he’s old enough to understand—who’ll he blame for it? He’ll blame you for it. (Inspired) He’ll blame Bob for it—he’ll hate him for it. D’ye want your boy—Bob’s boy—to be hatin’ his own father? What’d Bob say? What’d he think of you—ruinin’ his baby’s life—an’ all just because you’re obstinate an’ won’t listen to reason. Can’t you see it? Just think—if you’d only say you was in the wrong—an’ do what Mr. Tanner asks you—he’d forgive you an’ make everything all right. Oh, Janet—can’t you see it? Ask him—beg him!
Janet. Oh, dear. Well—how c’n Mr. Tanner make it all right?
Mrs. Ransome. You know what I mean. Oh, Janet, it won’t take him a minute to write it. If he don’t, can’t you see it’ll ruin us all our lives?
Janet. Only a minute to write it—or it’ll ruin us all our lives.
Mrs. Ransome. Oh, Janet, this is your last chance. Tell him you’re sorry. (To Tanner, who has edged towards the door, and is about to leave.) Oh, Mr. Tanner, please don’t go. Just wait another minute.
Tanner. Really, I must go.
Mrs. Ransome. Oh, sir! I can see she’s sorry. You won’t go back on your word, sir?