_] You
didn't have the nerve. I knew you wouldn't. For a moment you thought
the only decent thing for you to do was to die, and yet you couldn't
go through. I am sorry for you,--more sorry than I can tell. [_He
takes a step towards the door._
LAURA. You're going--you're going?
JOHN. Yes.
LAURA. And--and--you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak,
and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might
give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you,--lean
on you, John. I know I need someone. Aren't you going to let me? Won't
you give me another chance?
JOHN. I gave you your chance, Laura.
LAURA. [_Throws arms around his neck._] Give me another.
JOHN. But you leaned the wrong way. Good-bye.
[_He pulls away and goes out, slamming both doors._
LAURA. [_Screaming._] John--John--I--[_She sits on trunk, weeping in
loud and tearful manner; rises in a dazed fashion, starts to cross,
sees gun, utters loud cry of mingled despair and anger, grabs up gun,
crossing to bureau, opens up-stage drawer, throws gun in, slams drawer
shut, calling:_] Annie! Annie!
ANNIE. [_Appears through the portieres._] Ain't yuh goin' away, Miss
Laura?
LAURA. [_Suddenly arousing herself, and with a defiant voice._] No,
I'm not. I'm going to stay right here. [ANNIE _crosses and opens
trunk, takes out handsome dress, hangs it over back of armchair,
crosses up to hat-trunk, takes out hat.
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