Kyrle That fellow is like your shadow.
Danny [R.] Is it a cripple like me, that would be the shadow of an illegant gintleman like Mr. Hardress Cregan?
Kyrle [L.] Well, I mean that he never leaves your side.
Hard [C.] And he never shall leave me. Ten years ago he was a fine boy—we were foster-brothers, and playmates—in a moment of passion, while we were struggling, I flung him from the gap rock into the reeks below, and thus he was maimed for life.
Danny Arrah! whist aroon! wouldn’t I die for yez? didn’t the same mother foster us? Why, wouldn’t ye break my back if it plazed ye, and welkim! Oh, Masther Kyrle, if ye’d seen him nursin’ me for months, and cryin’ over me, and keenin’! Sin’ that time, sir, my body’s been crimpin’ up smaller and smaller every year, but my heart is gettin’ bigger for him every day.
Hard Go along, Danny.
Danny Long life t’ye, sir! I’m off.
[Runs up and descends rocks, C. to R.
Kyrle Hardress, a word with you. Be honest with me—do you love Anne Chute?