‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m mightily obliged to ye.’
‘You’re coming, Norah?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Armstrong—Paul Armstrong.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ she said. ‘Good-bye to ye, Paul Armstrong.’
‘No,’ said Paul, ‘you will come to me. I shall go to look for work to-morrow, and as soon as I have found it I shall send for you, and you will come.’
‘D’ye want me to live with ye?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he answered with a strong shudder. She saw that clearly, and her colour changed. The swift distortion showed itself about her lips again. It passed away in an instant, but it left the mouth trembling. ‘I want you to be away somewhere where nobody can say a word against you. I want to see you and talk to you sometimes, and know that you are going on prosperously.’
‘I’m mightily obliged to ye,’ she said again. ‘Ye’re a good little fool, but a fool you are.’
‘I am not a fool for this, Norah. Nobody is a fool who tries to do God’s work.’