regular intervals.

As the curtain rises, ANNA is discovered standing near the coil of
rope on which the lantern is placed. She looks healthy,
transformed, the natural color has come back to her face. She has
on a black, oilskin coat, but wears no hat. She is staring out
into the fog astern with an expression of awed wonder. The cabin
door is pushed open and CHRIS appears. He is dressed in yellow
oilskins--coat, pants, sou'wester--and wears high sea-boots.

CHRIS--[The glare from the cabin still in his eyes, peers
blinkmgly astern.] Anna! [Receiving no reply, he calls again, this
time with apparent apprehension.] Anna!

ANNA--[With a start--making a gesture with her hand as if to
impose silence--in a hushed whisper.] Yes, here I am. What d'you
want?

CHRIS--[Walks over to her--solicitously.] Don't you come turn in,
Anna? It's late--after four bells. It ain't good for you stay out
here in fog, Ay tank.

ANNA--Why not? [With a trace of strange exultation.] I love this
fog! Honest! It's so--[She hesitates, groping for a word.]--Funny
and still. I feel as if I was--out of things altogether.

CHRIS--[Spitting disgustedly.] Fog's vorst one of her dirty
tricks, py yingo!

ANNA--[With a short laugh.] Beefing about the sea again? I'm