Topping has gone.  Builder sits drawing at his pipe between the firelight and the light from the standard lamp.  He takes the pipe out of his mouth and a quiver passes over his face.  With a half angry gesture he rubs the back of his hand across his eyes.

Builder. [To himself] Pluck!  Pluck! [His lips quiver again.  He presses them hard together, puts his pipe back into his mouth, and, taking the Will, thrusts it into the newly-lighted fire and holds it there with a poker.]

While he is doing this the door from the hall is opened quietly, and Mrs builder enters without his hearing her.  She has a work bag in her hand.  She moves slowly to the table, and stands looking at him.  Then going up to the curtains she mechanically adjusts them, and still keeping her eyes on builder, comes down to the table and pours out his usual glass of whisky toddy.  Builder, who has become conscious of her presence, turns in his chair as she hands it to him.  He sits a moment motionless, then takes it from her, and squeezes her hand.  Mrs builder goes silently to her usual chair below the fire, and taking out some knitting begins to knit.  Builder makes an effort to speak, does not succeed, and sits drawing at his pipe.

The curtain falls.