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Ann sits in the hook of the chamber. She is striking Burts brook.
The radio stands on. Suddenly she hears a lawight
in the gang.
The door goes open. There stud Burt.
Ann: Haha, there are you. It is becans tide. From where come you,
flierefloyter?
Burt: That goes you not on!
Ann is up her toot getrapped. She thinks she will fall fromherself,
so
she goes lying longout on the
sofa and begins to snick.
Burt: Stop, hold up off I shall give you a vige on your smool.
That
is too much for Ann. She flies right from the sofa and balls her fist.
Ann: I can no longer stand you out! I will take
another man.
Burt: Pfoe, that shall me not spite. I have raids another leaf.
White like a like Ann falls fourover
on the tapite. Burt wrives in his hands from joy.
He does the door open and smites her after him too. In the room,
Ann
comes to herself. She seat her very bad out and she thinks lout up:
'Ann, I will make myself from side'. She goes in the
kitchen, takes a mess from
the shoyf, but when she thinks of the blood and the pain, she has twayfels.
Ann: 'I make
my not from cant for a type like Burt! I will leaver stay an old vrayster
the rest of my life and will never merry again'.
The public can see Ann go and sit on the stool and take her strikework in her hands.
The lights go out and the gordines
go too...
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