BURKE--[Peers blinkingly about the cabin--hoarsely.] Let you not be hiding from me, whoever's here--though 'tis well you know I'd have a right to come back and murder you. [He stops to listen. Hearing no sound, he closes the door behind him and comes forward to the table. He throws himself into the rocking-chair--despondently.] There's no one here, I'm thinking, and 'tis a great fool I am to be coming. [With a sort of dumb, uncomprehending anguish.] 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.]