[She gives a sob and heavy tears roll down her cheeks.]
Norah.
Oh don’t—don’t cry, Mrs. Sharp. After all, it may be all right.
Marsh.
They won’t condemn the crop unless it’s very bad. Too many people have got their eyes on it. The machine agent, the loan company.
Mrs. Sharp.
What with the hail that comes and hails you out and the frost that kills your crop just when you’re beginning to count on it, and the weed—I can’t bear it any more. If we lose this crop I won’t go on. I’ll make Sid sell out and we’ll go home. We’ll take a little shop somewhere. That’s what I wanted to do from the beginning, but Sid—he had his heart set on farming.
Norah.
You couldn’t go back now. You’d never be happy in a little shop. And if you’d stayed in England you’d have been always at the beck and call of somebody else. And you own the land. You couldn’t do that in England. When you come out of your door and look at the growing wheat, aren’t you proud to think it’s yours?
Mrs. Sharp.