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           Shehadcutitthatverymorningonaccountofthenewmoonanditnestledaboutherprettyheadinaprofusionofluxuriantclustersandparedhernailstoo,Thursdayforwealth.AndjustnowatEdy’swordsasatelltaleflush,delicateasthefaintestrosebloom,creptintohercheeksshelookedsolovelyinhersweetgirlishshynessthatofasuretyGod’sfairlandofIrelanddidnotholdherequal.

           Foraninstantshewassilentwithrathersaddowncasteyes.Shewasabouttoretortbutsomethingcheckedthewordsonhertongue.Inclinationpromptedhertospeakout:dignitytoldhertobesilent.TheprettylipspoutedawhilebutthensheglancedupandbrokeoutintoajoyouslittlelaughwhichhadinitallthefreshnessofayoungMaymorning.Sheknewrightwell,no-onebetter,whatmadesquintyEdysaythatbecauseofhimcoolinginhisattentionswhenitwassimplyalovers’quarrel.Asperusualsomebody’snosewasoutofjointabouttheboythathadthebicycleofftheLondonbridgeroadalwaysridingupanddowninfrontofherwindow.OnlynowhisfatherkepthiminintheeveningsstudyinghardtogetanexhibitionintheintermediatethatwasonandhewasgoingtogotoTrinitycollegetostudyforadoctorwhenheleftthehighschoollikehisbrotherW.E.WyliewhowasracinginthebicycleracesinTrinitycollegeuniversity.Littlereckedheperhapsforwhatshefelt,thatdullachingvoidinherheartsometimes,piercingtothecore.Yethewasyoungandperchancehemightlearntoloveherintime.