"I feel as if I was going to be sorry for Ryde presently," says Mr. Kelly.
"Well, he's not the man for Monica," says Madam O'Connor, with conviction. "See how sorrow grows upon her lovely face. For shame! go and release her, some one, from her durance vile. Take heart of grace, go in boldly, and win her, against all odds."
"But if she will not be won?" says Desmond, smiling, but yet with an anxious expression.
"'That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man if with his tongue he cannot win a woman,'" quotes Madam, in a low voice, turning to Desmond with a broad smile of the liveliest encouragement; "and as for you, Desmond, why, if I were a girl, I'd be won by yours at once."
Desmond laughs.
"I'm sorry I'm beneath your notice now."
"Where's your uncle? Couldn't even my letter coax him here to-night?"
"Not even that. He has gone nowhere now for so many years that I think he is afraid to venture."
"Tut!" says Madam, impatiently; "because he jilted a woman once is no reason why the rest of us should jilt him."