MARY. [Pleading.] Let’s give it up, Joe.  Go away together, you’d sleep without coughing.  Sleep, that’s all.  And God will be kinder than men.

JOE. [Groaning.] Don’t, Mary—­don’t!

MARY.  Joe, I can’t stand it any longer—­I can’t.  Not only myself—­but Minnie—­Joe, it’s too much for me!  I can’t stand Minnie crying, and asking me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning.  Joe, dear Joe, let there be no morning!

JOE. [Completely overcome.] Oh, Mary, Mary!

MARY.  It’s not your fault, dear—­you’ve done what you could.  Not your fault they won’t let you work—­you’ve tried hard enough.  And no woman ever had a better husband than you’ve been to me.  I love you, dear Joe.  And let’s do it—­let’s make an end.  And take Minnie with us.

JOE. [Springing up.] Mary, I’ll steal something to-morrow.

MARY.  And they’d send you to prison.  Besides, then God would be angry.  Now we can go to Him and need not be ashamed.  Let us, dear Joe—­oh, do let us!  I’m so tired!

JOE.  No.

MARY. [Sorrowfully.] You won’t?

JOE. [Doggedly.] No.  We’ll go to the workhouse.

MARY.  You’ve seen them in there, haven’t you?

JOE.  Yes.

MARY.  You’ve seen them standing at the window, staring at the world?  And they’d take you away from me.

JOE.  That’s better than—­

MARY. [Firmly.] I won’t do it, Joe.  I’ve been a good wife to you—­I’ve been a good mother:  and I love you, though I’m ragged and have pawned all my clothes; and I’ll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and be shut away from you.

JOE. [With a loud cry.] No!  I’ll make them give me something; and if I have to kill, it shan’t be my wife and child!  To-morrow I’ll come home with food and money—­to-morrow—­

     [There is a sudden wail from the child; JOE stops and stares
     at her; MARY goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the
     little girl.

MARY.  Hush, dear, hush—­no it’s not morning yet, not time for breakfast.  Go to sleep again, dear.  Yes, daddy’s come back, and things are going to be all right now—­No, dear, you can’t be hungry, really—­remember those beautiful cakes.  Go to sleep, Minnie, dear.  You’re cold? [She takes off her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child.] There, dear, you won’t be cold now.  Go to sleep, Minnie—­

     [The child’s wail dies away, as MARY soothes her back to
     sleep.

JOE. [Staggering forward with a sudden cry.] God, O God, give us bread!

THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS

THE OPEN DOOR

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

SIR GEOFFREY TRANSOM
LADY TORMINSTER