EILEEN (_brokenly_). Sshh! Let me finish. You don't know how alone I am now. Father--he'll marry that housekeeper--and the children--they've forgotten me. None of them need me any more. They've found out how to get on without me--and I'm a drag--dead to them--no place for me home any more--and they'll be afraid to have me back--afraid of catching--I know she won't want me back. And Fred--he's gone--he never mattered, anyway. Forgive me, dear--worrying you--only I want you to know how much you've meant to me--so you won't forget--ever--after you've gone. MURRAY (_in grief-stricken tones_). Forget? Eileen! I'll do anything in God's world---- EILEEN. I know--you like me a lot even if you can't love me--don't you? (_His arms tighten about her as he bends down and forces a kiss on her lips again._) Oh, Stephen! That was for good-bye. You mustn't come to-morrow morning. I couldn't bear having you--with people watching. But you'll write after--often--won't you? (_Heart-brokenly._) Oh, please do that, Stephen! MURRAY. I will! I swear! And when you get out I'll--we'll--I'll find something. (_He kisses her again._) EILEEN (_breaking away from him with a quick movement and stepping back a few feet_). Good-bye, darling. Remember me--and perhaps--you'll find out after a time--I'll pray God to make it so! Oh, what am I saying? Only--I'll hope--I'll hope--till I die! MURRAY (_in anguish_). Eileen! EILEEN (_her breath coming in tremulous heaves of her bosom_). Remember, Stephen--if ever you want--I'll do anything--anything you want--no matter what--I don't care--there's just you and--don't hate me, dear. I love you--love you--remember! (_She suddenly turns and runs away up the road._) MURRAY. Eileen! (_He starts to run after her, but stops by the signpost and stamps on the ground furiously, his fists clenched in impotent rage at himself and at fate. He curses hoarsely._) Christ! THE CURTAIN FALLS Act Three _Four months later. An isolation room at the Infirmary with a sleeping porch at the right of it. Late afternoon of a Sunday towards the end of October. The room, extending two-thirds of the distance from left to right, is, for reasons of space economy, scantily furnished with the bare necessities--a bureau with mirror in the left corner, rear--two straight-backed chairs--a table with a glass top in the centre. The floor is varnished hardwood. The walls and furniture are painted white. On the left, forward, a door to the hall. On the right, rear, a double glass door opening on the porch. Farther front two windows. The porch, a screened-in continuation of the room, contains only a single iron bed, painted white, and a small table placed beside the bed._