"A big, enlarged photo, I suppose?"
"Aye, the photo of a young girl in her bloom."
"I suppose she's very nice?"
"She's lovely, and 'tis what I said to myself as I looked upon her face, that it would be the pity of the world to see her married to a middling ould fellow like Myles Shannon."
"And I suppose, now, that she has a nice name?"
"Aye. It is that. And what you might call a grand name."
A long pause now fell between the two women, as if both were endeavoring to form in their minds some great resolve to which their hearts were prompting them. The old postmistress delivered her next speech in a whisper:
"Her name is Helena Cooper, and her address is 15 Medway Avenue, Manchester!"
The two women now nudged one another in simultaneous delight. Mrs. Brennan ran the direction over and over in her mind as if suddenly fearful that some dreadful stroke of forgetfulness might come to overthrow her chance of revenge upon her false, dead lover through the great injury she now contemplated doing to his brother.... She made an excuse of going to the kitchen to put more water upon the teapot and, when she went there, scribbled the name and address upon the wall beside the fireplace.
When she returned to the sewing-room the old postmistress was using her handkerchief to hide the smile of satisfaction which was dancing around her mouth. She knew what was just presently running through Mrs. Brennan's mind, and she was glad and thankful that she herself was about to be saved the trouble of writing to Miss Cooper.... Her hand was beginning to be quavery and incapable of writing a hard, vindictive letter. Besides that Mr. Shannon was an influential man in the district, and the Post Office was not above suspicion. She was thankful to Mrs. Brennan now, and said the tea was nice, very nice.