MRS. KEENEY (counts on her fingers—­then murmurs with a rapt smile).  That would be August, the latter part of August, wouldn’t it?  It was on the twenty-fifth of August we were married, David, wasn’t it?

KEENEY (trying to conceal the fact that her memories have moved him—­gruffly).  Don’t you remember?

MRS. KEENEY (vaguely—­again passes her hand over her eyes).  My memory is leaving me—­up here in the ice.  It was so long ago. (A pause—­then she smiles dreamily.) It’s June now.  The lilacs will be all in bloom in the front yard—­and the climbing roses on the trellis to the side of the house—­they’re budding.

(She suddenly covers her face with her hands and commences to sob.)

KEENEY (disturbed).  Go in and rest, Annie.  You’re all wore out cryin’ over what can’t be helped.

MRS. KEENEY (suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him).  You love me, don’t you, David?

KEENEY (in amazed embarrassment at this outburst) Love you?  Why d’you ask me such a question, Annie?

MRS. KEENEY (shaking him—­fiercely).  But you do, don’t you, David?  Tell me!

KEENEY.  I’m your husband, Annie, and you’re my wife.  Could there be aught but love between us after all these years?

MRS. KEENEY (shaking him again—­still more fiercely).  Then you do love me.  Say it!

KEENEY (simply).  I do, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY. (Gives a sigh of relief—­her hands drop to her sides. KEENEY regards her anxiously.  She passes her hand across her eyes and murmurs half to herself.) I sometimes think if we could only have had a child. (KEENEY turns away from her, deeply moved.  She grabs his arm and turns him around to face her—­intensely.) And I’ve always been a good wife to you, haven’t I, David?

KEENEY (his voice betraying his emotion).  No man ever had a better, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY.  And I’ve never asked for much from you, have I, David?  Have I?

KEENEY.  You know you could have all I got the power to give ye, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY (wildly).  Then do this, this once, for my sake, for God’s sake—­take me home!  It’s killing me, this life—­the brutality and cold and horror of it.  I’m going mad.  I can feel the threat in the air.  I can hear the silence threatening me—­day after gray day and every day the same.  I can’t bear it. (Sobbing.) I’ll go mad, I know I will.  Take me home, David, if you love me as you say.  I’m afraid.  For the love of God, take me home!

(She throws her arms around him, weeping against his shoulder.  His face betrays the tremendous struggle going on within him.  He holds her out at arm’s length, his expression softening.  For a moment his shoulders sag, he becomes old, his iron spirit weakens as he looks at her tear-stained face.)

KEENEY (dragging out the words with an effort).  I’ll do it, Annie—­for your sake—­if you say it’s needful for ye.