MURRAY. T.B.? Yes, of course. (_Confidentially._) But it's only a matter of time when I'll be all right again. I hope it won't be too soon. I was dying for a rest--a good, long rest with time to think about things. I'm due to get what I wanted here. That's why I celebrated. EILEEN (_with wide eyes_). I wonder if you really mean---- MURRAY. What I've been sayin'? I sure do--every word of it! EILEEN (_puzzled_). I can't understand how anyone could---- (_With a worried glance over her shoulder._) I think I'd better look for Miss Gilpin, hadn't I? She may wonder---- (_She half rises from her chair._) MURRAY (_quickly_). No. Please don't go yet. Sit down. Please do. (_She glances at him irresolutely, then resumes her chair._) They'll give you your diet of milk and shoo you off to bed on that freezing porch soon enough, don't worry. I'll see to it that you don't fracture any rules. (_Hitching his chair nearer hers--impulsively._) In all charity to me you've got to stick awhile. I haven't had a chance to really talk to a soul for a week. You found what I said a while ago hard to believe, didn't you? EILEEN (_with a smile_). Isn't it? You said you hoped you wouldn't get well too soon! MURRAY. And I meant it! This place is honestly like heaven to me--a lonely heaven till your arrival. (Eileen _looks embarrassed._) And why wouldn't it be? I've no fear for my health--eventually. Just let me tell you what I was getting away from---- (_With a sudden laugh full of a weary bitterness._) Do you know what it means to work from seven at night till three in the morning as a reporter on a morning newspaper in a town of twenty thousand people--for _ten years_? No. You don't. You can't. No one could who hadn't been through the mill. But what it did to me--it made me happy--yes, happy!--to get out here--T.B. and all, notwithstanding. EILEEN (_looking at him curiously_). But I always thought being a reporter was so interesting. MURRAY (_with a cynical laugh_). Interesting? On a small town rag? A month of it, perhaps, when you're a kid and new to the game. But ten years. Think of it! With only a raise of a couple of dollars every blue moon or so, and a weekly spree on Saturday night to vary the monotony. (_He laughs again._) Interesting, eh? Getting the dope on the Social of the Queen Esther Circle in the basement of the Methodist Episcopal Church, unable to sleep through a meeting of the Common Council on account of the noisy oratory caused by John Smith's application for a permit to build a house; making a note that a tugboat towed two barges loaded with coal up the river, that Mrs. Perkins spent a week-end with relatives in Hickville, that John Jones---- Oh help! Why go on? Ten years of it! I'm a broken man. God, how I used to pray that our Congressman would commit suicide, or the Mayor murder his wife--just to be able to write a real story!