"Oh, Launce can take care of himself!"
"I doubt it," Brian answered dryly.
"Oh, but he can!" Honor persists, with a laugh. "We all can, for that matter; indeed, and it's my opinion there is not a susceptible heart in the whole family."
"Probably not. I don't believe in susceptible hearts myself."
A faint smile stirs her lips as she listens. It was not true, then, that passionate declaration that has rung in her ears since she first heard it:
"Heavens, child, how I love you!"
"How would it have been with me now if I had believed him?" she asks herself. She can quite believe that the loss of this man's love—after once believing in it—might prove a source of very keen regret to any girl; but fortunately she had never believed in it; and now it could never be anything—true or false, faithful or unfaithful—since she has given her plighted word to Power Magill.
"I wish Launce would go back to Dublin," Brian says after a pause. "He is only getting himself and other people into mischief down here. Can't the pater see that?"
"My father can see no fault in Launce—neither can I, for that matter.
I really don't see what harm the poor fellow is doing."
"He is doing harm, Honor—take my word for it! He would be best away."