ROBERT. (_irritably_) What nonsense! For God’s sake, haven’t you ever had a bad cold yourself? (RUTH _stares at the stove in silence_. ROBERT _fidgets in his chair. There is a pause. Finally_ ROBERT’S _eyes are fixed on the sleeping_ MRS. ATKINS) Your mother is lucky to be able to sleep so soundly. RUTH. Ma’s tired. She’s been sitting up with me most of the night. ROBERT. (_mockingly_) Is she waiting for Andy, too? (_There is a pause._ ROBERT _sighs_) I couldn’t get to sleep to save my soul. I counted ten million sheep if I counted one. No use! I gave up trying finally and just laid there in the dark thinking. (_He pauses, then continues in a tone of tender sympathy_) I was thinking about you, Ruth--of how hard these last years must have been for you. (_Appealingly_) I’m sorry, Ruth. RUTH. (_in a dead voice_) I don’t know. They’re past now. They were hard on all of us. ROBERT. Yes; on all of us but Andy. (_With a flash of sick jealousy_) Andy’s made a big success of himself--the kind he wanted. (_Mockingly_) And now he’s coming home to let us admire his greatness. (_Frowning--irritably_) What am I talking about? My brain must be sick, too. (_After a pause_) Yes, these years have been terrible for both of us. (_His voice is lowered to a trembling whisper_) Especially the last eight months since Mary--died. (_He forces back a sob with a convulsive shudder--then breaks out in a passionate agony_) Our last hope of happiness! I could curse God from the bottom of my soul--if there was a God! (_He is racked by a violent fit of coughing and hurriedly puts his handkerchief to his lips_). RUTH. (_without looking at him_) Mary’s better off--being dead. ROBERT. (_gloomily_) We’d all be better off for that matter. (_With a sudden exasperation_) You tell that mother of yours she’s got to stop saying that Mary’s death was due to a weak constitution inherited from me. (_On the verge of tears of weakness_) It’s got to stop, I tell you! RUTH. (_sharply_) S-h-h! You’ll wake her; and then she’ll nag at me--not you. ROBERT. (_coughs and lies back in his chair weakly--a pause_) It’s all because your mother’s down on me for not begging Andy for help. RUTH. (_resentfully_) You might have. He’s got plenty. ROBERT. How can _you_ of all people think of taking money from _him_? RUTH. (_dully_) I don’t see the harm. He’s your own brother. ROBERT. (_shrugging his shoulders_) What’s the use of talking to you? Well, _I_ couldn’t. (_Proudly_) And I’ve managed to keep things going, thank God. You can’t deny that without help I’ve succeeded in---- (_He breaks off with a bitter laugh_) My God, what am I boasting of? Debts to this one and that, taxes, interest unpaid! I’m a fool! (_He lies back in his chair closing his eyes for a moment, then speaks in a low voice_) I’ll be frank, Ruth. I’ve been an utter failure, and I’ve dragged you with me. I couldn’t blame you in all justice--for hating me.