Yerra, Mat Burke, 'tis a great
jackass you've become and what's got into you at all, at all? She's
gone out of this long ago, I'm telling you, and you'll never see her
face again. [ANNA stands up, hesitating, struggling between joy and
fear. BURKE'S eyes fall on ANNA'S bag. He leans over to examine it.]
What's this? [Joyfully.] It's hers. She's not gone! But where is she?
Ashore? [Darkly.] What would she be doing ashore on this rotten night?
[His face suddenly convulsed with grief and rage.] 'Tis that, is it?
Oh, God's curse on her! [Raging.] I'll wait 'till she comes and choke
her dirty life out. [ANNA starts, her face grows hard. She steps into
the room, the revolver in her right hand by her side.]

ANNA--[In a cold, hard tone.] What are you doing here?

BURKE--[Wheeling about with a terrified gasp] Glory be to God! [They
remain motionless and silent for a moment, holding each other's eyes.]

ANNA--[In the same hard voice] Well, can't you talk?

BURKE--[Trying to fall into an easy, careless tone] You've a year's
growth scared out of me, coming at me so sudden and me thinking I was
alone.

ANNA--You've got your nerve butting in here without knocking or
nothing. What d'you want?

BURKE--[Airily] Oh, nothing much. I was wanting to have a last word
with you, that's all. [He moves a step toward her.]

ANNA--[Sharply--raising the revolver in her hand.] Careful now! Don't
try getting too close. I heard what you said you'd do to me.

BURKE--[Noticing the revolver for the first time.] Is it murdering me
you'd be now, God forgive you? [Then with a contemptuous laugh.] Or is
it thinking I'd be frightened by that old tin whistle? [He walks
straight for her.]

ANNA--[Wildly.] Look out, I tell you!

BURKE--[Who has come so close that the revolver is almost touching his
chest.] Let you shoot, then! [Then with sudden wild grief.] Let you
shoot, I'm saying, and be done with it! Let you end me with a shot and
I'll be thanking you, for it's a rotten dog's life I've lived the past
two days since I've known what you are, 'til I'm after wishing I was
never born at all!

ANNA--[Overcome--letting the revolver drop to the floor, as if her
fingers had no strength to hold it--hysterically.] What d'you want
coming here? Why don't you beat it? Go on! [She passes him and sinks
down in the rocking-chair.]

BURKE--[Following her--mournfully.] 'Tis right you'd be asking why did
I come. [Then angrily.] 'Tis because 'tis a great weak foo