"Yes, sir."
"Give me a form then."
He brought it to me.
"Coming," I wrote and handed it back to him. "Pack my things," said I, "I'm off to Ireland this evening."
I acted with as little hesitation as that, for I more than welcomed the thought of leaving London. There was beading of green through all that black lace-work of the trees, and often I had felt the yearning that must come to every one of us, that calling of the land, when one's eyes need to be filled with the broad stretches, when one's feet long for the springy turf and all one's heart aches for the great freedom of God's heaven above one's head. And beside all that, I knew I should soon be seeing Dandy once more.
It would be impossible to count the memories that filled my mind when again I mounted Quin's car and set out upon that nine-mile journey from Youghal to Ballysheen. Every corner of the road brought back to my remembrance the day when I had arrived, the day also when I had gone back to London feeling how utterly the madness of my mission had failed.
It was a long time before I spoke a word to Quin who, though the day was fine enough, drove just as ever with that fixed despondency of expression in his face.
"Are you never cheerful," said I at last, "not even on a day like this?"
He looked at me in astonishment.
"What would I be cheerful about?" he asked.