ACT III.
Scene:The same room—if possible dingier than ever.Jemimais sitting hunched up by the fire, which is enveloping her in a yellow cloud.Bloggsis pushed into the room by a hard-faced man.
Scene:The same room—if possible dingier than ever.Jemimais sitting hunched up by the fire, which is enveloping her in a yellow cloud.Bloggsis pushed into the room by a hard-faced man.
The Hard-Faced Man(grimly): I’ve brought you back your husband, ma’am. You may as well know he’s discharged from my employment.
Jemima(tonelessly): Oh?
The H.F.M.: And lucky he’s not prosecuted.
Jemima(as before): Oh?
The H.F.M.: Embezzlement’s a serious thing.
Jemima: Yes.... Starvation’s serious too.
The H.F.M.: That’s your affair.... I don’t want thanks. I don’t intend to prosecute, because it’s a nuisance. That’s all.
Jemima: Yes.
Bloggs(inadvertently stepping out of the picture): I tell you I did it to save my little girl. She’s dying. I must have money to save her—to send her abroad. Oh, Amy, Amy, my child. (He tries in vain to sob.)
The H.F.M.(chillingly): No sentiment, please! This is not the Lyceum.... Now, I’m going. I hope I never see either of you again. I don’t care two straws whether the girl dies or not. And I won’t wish you luck, because I don’t specially want you to haveit, and anyway you wouldn’t get it. (But they are paying no attention, and he goes.)
Jemima(listlessly): Doctor’s been again.
Bloggs(the same): Oh yes?
Jemima: Says she’s getting better.
Bloggs: Is she? (He sits by the fire in his hat and coat. The inevitableHookerslouches in, similarly clad, and takes his place on the other side. A melancholy silence reigns.)
Hooker(at last): It’s raining again.
Jemima(bringing in the milk-jug): The thunder’s turned the milk sour.
Bloggs(dismally): I thought it would.
Hooker(shivering, and hugging himself in his coat): There’s a thick fog, and it’s very damp.
Bloggs(gloomily): There always is.
Hooker: Yes. (The fire contributes to the general depression by a shower of soot, and a sudden belch of acrid yellow fumes.)
Bloggs: Jemima, the fire’s smoking.
Jemima(wearily): I’ll make it up in a minute. (She worries it with various implements. More soot falls and the smoke increases. She stirs it aimlessly with the poker. It flickers and goes out for the last time. They, and the audience, are too depressed to care. They sit staring blankly at the grate as the cold and fog gradually invade the room.)
The Curtain Falls very slowly.