That’s no concern o’ yourn! Aye, ’a did once, Aye! and ’a will again, Some day, perhaps. When he first married me, ’A did,--’a did! We’ve sat here in this room A-kissing by the hour! That were before The children come. Children do make a house No comfort to a man. He had his right To go. He didn’t want ’em, but I did! I did! Aye! and I’ve ’ad ’em now a whole seven years, Worked for ’em, I lived for ’em, starved for ’em, And I’d die So it could better ’em. SNOWMAN.-- And what--for him? JOAN.-- I’ve broke my ’eart for ’im; it’s past its work, And now it ain’t no use--no use--to ’im. SNOWMAN.-- Its use has come. Oh, woman give Your heart to me, I’ll make it live. And what you lend he shall receive. JOAN.-- You can’t. You can’t do that---- You can’t raise up the sun when once it’s set; You can’t put new roots in us, when we’re old, Dried up, and withered. SNOWMAN.-- Yet within kind earth Dry seed goes sown And springs again to birth. JOAN.-- I’ve ’ad enough of earth. I’ve sowed, I’ve reaped, I’ve gathered, and I’ve strawed. But me and ’im We won’t meet any more. He ’aven’t come, Nigh me--not for a year. And when he did come back--he went again Next day. SNOWMAN. Went? Where? JOAN. Nowhere. He roves about. Seeing the world, ’e calls it. Roving blood. That’s been ’is curse; and mind, ’is roving blood, it haven’t always roved. He liked his ease, he liked the victuals I give him well enough, he liked his fireside, and he liked his bed when I was by ’im. Ah! And then one day he’d ’ad enough of comfort, and was off,--looking for what? ’Ardship? He might have ’ad that ’ere if he’d but stayed. Aye, that ’e could--for it’s been ’ard enough--with they two there. Ah, you may look at ’em, they ’aven’t known trouble--yet they was with me all the time. Why, there’ve been days when I’ve not ’ad enough to eat myself. And what ’ave fed me? Just to ’ear ’em laugh and think they ’aven’t known. What do you look at me like that for? What do you know? What did you come for? Say! SNOWMAN. To bring you comfort. JOAN. Comfort? I’ve got no place for comfort in me now. It isn’t that I want--it’s rest. SNOWMAN. ’Tis rest I bring. JOAN. Where’s ’e? SNOWMAN. Here--near at hand. Come, come and do not be afraid. (_He takes her hand_) JOAN. Oh, dearie me. This feels like death. Like death! (_As they touch hands a mist draws over the stage, the walls of the house seem to fade away, the sound of the storm grows loud around them. They stand in a white world full of obscure movement and pale drifting forms._) SNOWMAN. What do you see? JOAN. A waste of snow. SNOWMAN. Anyone there? JOAN. No one I know. No--only you. What? You say you saw him on the road, coming? How do you know that it was ’im? Yes--yes--’e was like that. But younger, ’andsomer than that,--not lame----