O'Hara stood by the table, slowly dipping the ladle into the punch and absently pouring the liquor back into the bowl again. She sidled round to him.
"Denis!" said she.
He turned his wildly-bright eyes upon her, but made no answer.
"I'm going back," said she, and held out her hand.
He carefully put down the ladle, took the tips of her little fingers and kissed them. But his hands and his lips were cold.
"Glory be to God," said he, "it's a grand game you played with me ... the Bath Comedy entirely, Kitty."
Then he dropped her hand and took up the punch-ladle again with downcast looks.
"Will you not give me your arm to my carriage?" said she, after a slight pause.
"Ah, Kitty, sure haven't you broke my heart for me ... and has not the punch robbed me of my legs!"
His wild bright eyes were deeply sad as he turned them on her, and he was pale as death.