" says Madam, with a little flourish of her shapely
hand.

"So it would be for me, too," says Kelly, mournfully. "But there's no
one good enough to risk my neck for, now you have refused to have
anything to do with me."

"Get along with you, you wicked boy, making fun of an old woman!" says
Madam, with her gay, musical laugh. "Though," with a touch of pride, "I
won't deny but I led the lads a fine dance when I was the age of that
pretty child yonder."

"I wonder you aren't ashamed when you think of all the mischief you
did," says Desmond, who delights in her.

"Divil a bit!" says Madam O'Connor.

"Still, I really think Ryde affects her," says Rossmoyne, who, being a
dull man, has clung to the first topic promulgated.

"That's nothing, so long as she doesn't affect him," says Kelly,
somewhat sharply.

"But perhaps she does; and I daresay he has money. Those English fellows
generally have a reversion somewhere."

"Not a penny," says Mr. Kelly. "And, whether or no, I don't believe she
would look at him."

"Not she," says Madam O'Connor.

"I don't know that. And, even allowing what you say to be true, women
are not always to be won by wealth" (with a faint sigh), "and he is a
very good-looking fellow."

"Is he?" says Desmond, speaking with an effort. "If flesh counts, of
course he is. 'Let me have men about me that are fat; sleek-headed men,
and such as sleep o' nights.' To look at Ryde, one would fancy he slept
well, not only by night but by day."

"I feel as if I was going to be sorry for Ryde presently," says Mr.
Kelly.

"Well, he's not the man for Monica," says Madam O'Connor, with
conviction. "See how sorrow grows upon her lovely face. For shame! go
and release her, some one, from her durance vile. Take heart of grace,
go in boldly, and win her, against all odds."

"But if she will not be won?" says Desmond, smiling, but yet with an
anxious expression.

"'That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man if with his tongue he
cannot win a woman,'" quotes Madam, in a low voice, turning to Desmond
with a broad smile of the liveliest encouragement; "and as for you,
Desmond, why, if I were a girl, I'd be won by yours at once."

Desmond laughs.

"I'm sorry I'm beneath your notice now."

"Where's your uncle? Couldn't even my letter coax him here to-night?"

"Not even that. He has gone nowhere now for so many years that I think
he is afraid to venture."

"Tut!" says Madam, impatiently; "because _he_ ji