MARTHY sips what is left of her schooner reflectively. There is the ring of the family entrance bell. LARRY comes to the door and opens it a trifle--then, with a puzzled expression, pulls it wide. ANNA CHRISTOPHERSON enters. She is a tall, blond, fully-developed girl of twenty, handsome after a large, Viking-daughter fashion but now run down in health and plainly showing all the outward evidences of belonging to the world's oldest profession. Her youthful face is already hard and cynical beneath its layer of make-up. Her clothes are the tawdry finery of peasant stock turned prost.i.tute. She comes and sinks wearily in a chair by the table, left front.]

ANNA--Gimme a whiskey--ginger ale on the side. [Then, as LARRY turns to go, forcing a winning smile at him.] And don't be stingy, baby.

LARRY--[Sarcastically.] Shall I serve it in a pail?

ANNA--[With a hard laugh.] That suits me down to the ground. [LARRY goes into the bar. The two women size each other up with frank stares.

LARRY comes back with the drink which he sets before ANNA and returns to the bar again. ANNA downs her drink at a gulp. Then, after a moment, as the alcohol begins to rouse her, she turns to MARTHY with a friendly smile.] Gee, I needed that bad, all right, all right!

MARTHY--[Nodding her head sympathetically.] Sure--yuh look all in. Been on a bat?

ANNA--No--travelling--day and a half on the train. Had to sit up all night in the dirty coach, too. Gawd, I thought I'd never get here!

MARTHY--[With a start--looking at her intently.] Where'd yuh come from, huh?

ANNA--St. Paul--out in Minnesota.

MARTHY--[Staring at her in amazement--slowly.] So--yuh're--[She suddenly bursts out into hoa.r.s.e, ironical laughter.] Gawd!

ANNA--All the way from Minnesota, sure. [Flaring up.] What you laughing at? Me?

MARTHY--[Hastily.] No, honest, kid. I was thinkin' of somethin' else.

ANNA--[Mollified--with a smile.] Well, I wouldn't blame you, at that.

Guess I do look rotten--yust out of the hospital two weeks. I'm going to have another 'ski. What d'you say? Have something on me?

MARTHY--Sure I will. T'anks. [She calls.] Hey, Larry! Little service!

[He comes in.]

ANNA--Same for me.

MARTHY--Same here. [LARRY takes their gla.s.ses and goes out.]

ANNA--Why don't you come sit over here, be sociable. I'm a dead stranger in this burg--and I ain't spoke a word with no one since day before yesterday.

MARTHY--Sure thing. [She shuffles over to ANNA'S table and sits down opposite her. LARRY brings the drinks and ANNA pays him.]

ANNA--Skoal! Here's how! [She drinks.]

MARTHY--Here's luck! [She takes a gulp from her schooner.]

ANNA--[Taking a package of Sweet Caporal cigarettes from her bag.] Let you smoke in here, won't they?

MARTHY--[Doubtfully.] Sure. [Then with evident anxiety.] On'y trow it away if yuh hear someone comin'.

ANNA--[Lighting one and taking a deep inhale.] Gee, they're fussy in this dump, ain't they? [She puffs, staring at the table top. MARTHY looks her over with a new penetrating interest, taking in every detail of her face. ANNA suddenly becomes conscious of this appraising stare--resentfully.] Ain't nothing wrong with me, is there? You're looking hard enough.

MARTHY--[Irritated by the other's tone--scornfully.] Ain't got to look much. I got your number the minute you stepped in the door.

ANNA--[Her eyes narrowing.] Ain't you smart! Well, I got yours, too, without no trouble. You're me forty years from now. That's you! [She gives a hard little laugh.]

MARTHY--[Angrily.] Is that so? Well, I'll tell you straight, kiddo, that Marthy Owen never--[She catches herself up short--with a grin.]

What are you and me sc.r.a.ppin' over? Let's cut it out, huh? Me, I don't want no hard feelin's with no one. [Extending her hand.] Shake and forget it, huh?

ANNA--[Shakes her hand gladly.] Only too glad to. I ain't looking for trouble. Let's have 'nother. What d'you say?

MARTHY--[Shaking her head.] Not for mine. I'm full up. And you-- Had anythin' to eat lately?

ANNA--Not since this morning on the train.

MARTHY--Then yuh better go easy on it, hadn't yuh?

ANNA--[After a moment's hesitation.] Guess you're right. I got to meet someone, too. But my nerves is on edge after that rotten trip.

MARTHY--Yuh said yuh was just outa the hospital?

ANNA--Two weeks ago. [Leaning over to MARTHY confidentially.] The joint I was in out in St. Paul got raided. That was the start. The judge give all us girls thirty days. The others didn't seem to mind being in the cooler much. Some of 'em was used to it. But me, I couldn't stand it.

It got my goat right--couldn't eat or sleep or nothing. I never could stand being caged up nowheres. I got good and sick and they had to send me to the hospital. It was nice there. I was sorry to leave it, honest!

MARTHY--[After a slight pause.] Did yuh say yuh got to meet someone here?

ANNA--Yes. Oh, not what you mean. It's my Old Man I got to meet.

Honest! It's funny, too. I ain't seen him since I was a kid--don't even know what he looks like--yust had a letter every now and then. This was always the only address he give me to write him back. He's yanitor of some building here now--used to be a sailor.

MARTHY--[Astonished.] Janitor!

ANNA--Sure. And I was thinking maybe, seeing he ain't never done a thing for me in my life, he might be willing to stake me to a room and eats till I get rested up. [Wearily.] Gee, I sure need that rest! I'm knocked out. [Then resignedly.] But I ain't expecting much from him.

Give you a kick when you're down, that's what all men do. [With sudden pa.s.sion.] Men, I hate 'em--all of 'em! And I don't expect he'll turn out no better than the rest. [Then with sudden interest.] Say, do you hang out around this dump much?

MARTHY--Oh, off and on.

ANNA--Then maybe you know him--my Old Man--or at least seen him?

MARTHY--It ain't old Chris, is it?

ANNA--Old Chris?

MARTHY--Chris Christopherson, his full name is.

ANNA--[Excitedly.] Yes, that's him! Anna Christopherson--that's my real name--only out there I called myself Anna Christie. So you know him, eh?

MARTHY--[Evasively.] Seen him about for years.

ANNA--Say, what's he like, tell me, honest?

MARTHY--Oh, he's short and--

ANNA--[Impatiently.] I don't care what he looks like. What kind is he?

MARTHY--[Earnestly.] Well, yuh can bet your life, kid, he's as good an old guy as ever walked on two feet. That goes!