“When did this happen?” asked the girl, attempting to brace up.
“This marnin’,” was the answer. “Yer see she caught him, and he had to marry her.”
“She caught him? Who caught him?”
“Wan of his girruls.”
“One—one of his girls?”
“Yis, my dear.”
“One of them? How many did he have?”
“Well, my dear, Oi don’t think he really knew himsilf. Wan toime he towld me he was shpooning around some sexteen or seventeen girruls.”
Maggie popped up straight and stiff as a ramrod, flinging the visitor’s supporting arms aside.
“Sixteen or seventeen girls?” she cried furiously. “Impossible! I can’t believe that! You are deceiving me!”