RUTH. (_dully_) You found--you’d lost everything?
ANDREW. (_sitting down again_) Practically. (_He takes a cigar from his pocket, bites the end off, and lights it_) Oh, I don’t mean I’m dead broke. I’ve saved ten thousand from the wreckage, maybe twenty. But that’s a poor showing for five years’ hard work. That’s why I’ll have to go back. (_Confidently_) I can make it up in a year or so down there--and I don’t need but a shoestring to start with. (_A weary expression comes over his face and he sighs heavily_) I wish I didn’t have to. I’m sick of it all.
RUTH. It’s too bad--things seem to go wrong so.
ANDREW. (_shaking off his depression--briskly_) They might be much worse. There’s enough left to fix the farm O. K. before I go. I won’t leave ’til Rob’s on his feet again. In the meantime I’ll make things fly around here. (_With satisfaction_) I need a rest, and the kind of rest I need is hard work in the open--just like I used to do in the old days. (_Stopping abruptly and lowering his voice cautiously_) Not a word to Rob about my losing money! Remember that, Ruth! You can see why. If he’s grown so touchy he’d never accept a cent if he thought I was hard up; see?
RUTH. Yes, Andy. (_After a pause, during which_ ANDREW _puffs at his cigar abstractedly, his mind evidently busy with plans for the future, the bedroom door is opened and_ DOCTOR FAWCETT _enters, carrying a bag. He closes the door quietly behind him and comes forward, a grave expression on his face._ ANDREW _springs out of his chair_).
ANDREW. Ah, Doctor! (_He pushes a chair between his own and_ RUTH’S) Won’t you have a chair?
FAWCETT. (_glancing at his watch_) I must catch the nine o’clock back to the city. It’s imperative. I have only a moment. (_Sitting down and clearing his throat--in a perfunctory, impersonal voice_) The case of your brother, Mr. Mayo, is---- (_He stops and glances at_ RUTH _and says meaningly to_ ANDREW) Perhaps it would be better if you and I----
RUTH. (_with dogged resentment_) I know what you mean, Doctor. (_Dully_) Don’t be afraid I can’t stand it. I’m used to bearing trouble by this; and I can guess what you’ve found out. (_She hesitates for a moment--then continues in a monotonous voice_) Rob’s going to die.