“Oh, no,” said Anty, at last, shuddering in horror at the remembrance of the last night she passed in Dunmore House, “I cannot go back to live with him, but I’ll do anything else, av’ he’ll only lave me, and my kind, kind friends, in pace and quiet.”
“Indeed, and you won’t, Anty,” said the widow; “you’ll do nothing for him. Your frinds—that’s av’ you mane the Kellys—is very able to take care of themselves.”
“If your brother, Miss Lynch, will lave Dunmore House altogether, and let you have it to yourself, will you go and live there, and give him the promise not to marry Martin Kelly?”
“Indeed an’ she won’t,” said the widow. “She’ll give no promise of the kind. Promise, indeed! what for should she promise Barry Lynch whom she will marry, or whom she won’t?”
“Raily, Mrs Kelly, I think you might let Miss Lynch answer for herself.”
“I wouldn’t, for all the world thin, go to live at Dunmore House,” said Anty.
“And you are determined to stay in this inn here?”
“In course she is—that’s till she’s a snug house of her own,” said the widow.
“Ah, mother!” said Martin, “what for will you be talking?”
“And you’re determined,” repeated Daly, “to stay here?”