“Nobody!” said Jim.
“But you're British yourself,” said Lilly to Jim.
“No, I'm Irish. Family's Irish—my mother was a Fitz-patrick.”
“Anyhow you live in England.”
“Because they won't let me go to Ireland.”
The talk drifted. Jim finished up all the beer, and they prepared to go to bed. Jim was a bit tipsy, grinning. He asked for bread and cheese to take upstairs.
“Will you have supper?” said Lilly. He was surprised, because Jim had eaten strangely much at dinner.
“No—where's the loaf?” And he cut himself about half of it. There was no cheese.
“Bread'll do,” said Jim.
“Sit down and eat it. Have cocoa with it,” said Tanny.