JANE: Oh, my God! Now I know where you got it. He was a lunatic, too!

MOONY: Naw, he was smart. He run out on us.

JANE: Run out on your mother, he did? Well, it’s not surprising!

MOONY: I never heard of him since.

JANE: Well—he probably got what was coming to him.

MOONY [with quick rage]: Better than what I got!

JANE: What you got?

MOONY: A skinny yellow cat—that’s what I got!

JANE [gasping]: Oh——! God oughta strike you down dead for saying a thing like that!

MOONY: Yeah? I say it again—a yellow cat—a skinny yellow cat!

[Jane strikes him across face. Moony becomes like a mad animal. Roars and lunges forward—clutches Jane by throat. They grapple fiercely for several moments. Then Jane collapses in his arms.]

JANE [weakly]: Lemme go—please—for God’s sake!

MOONY [disgustedly]: Ahhh—yer too soft! [He flings her away from him. She falls against interior door, and hangs onto knob and edge of sink for support. Moony hitches his belt undecidedly. He can’t look at Jane’s dazed face. He is ashamed, but still defiant.] I’m leaving you now—get that? I’m checking out. You can tell the Dutchman to give you my pay—owes me three days— Time an’ a ha’f for Saturday— [Gives his belt final hitch, and moves over to peg where his lumberman’s jacket is hanging. He gives Jane a swift furtive glance as he puts on the jacket.] H’mmm! [He stoops down to pick up his axe. Feels the blade with a gingerly pride. Takes awkward practice swing. Eyes glow triumphantly to life. He looks again at Jane like an escaped animal at a cage. She does not move. She stares at him with hurt animal eyes. Moony spits on his fingers, runs them along the axe blade again. Hoarsely.] Pretty sharp, still. Good ole axe—h’mmm! [He starts toward the outer door.] Maybe I’ll—see you sometime— Jane. [Fumbles with latch.] So long. [He jerks door open. Stands on threshold.] H’mmm. Feel that wind. Good an’ clear tonight. A touch a frost in the air. An’ them stars. Millions of ’em, huh? Quantity production, everything on a big scale—that’s God! Millions of stars—millions of people. Only He knew what to do with the stars. Stuck ’em up there in the sky to look pretty. But people—down here in the mud. Ugh, too many of ’em, God! They must have run away with you, I guess. Crawling over each other, snatching and tearing, living an’ dying till the earth’s just a big soup of dead bodies!—How did that happen? Gosh, it’s sure funny!—Oh, well, what’s the use? A man’s gotta live his own life. Cut his own ways through the woods somehow—

[The cold air sweeping into the room brings Jane out of her stupefaction. She slides to the floor and crawls toward Moony like a half-crushed animal.]

JANE: Moony!— [Hoarsely.] —You wouldn’t walk out on me, honey? Me with the baby and my infection of the breast, and no money or nothing? [Moony turns toward her a tortured face. Snatches at his pockets and flings a few coins on the floor.]