McDermott laughed. "You are sober, Quantrelle!"
"Distressingly so, monsieur!"
"And if I give you money you would use it for—" McDermott paused.
"Charity, monsieur," the Red One answered, his eyes drooped religiously. He took the gold coin which Dermott gave him, tossed it into the sunshine, and slipped it into his pocket with a bow. "You will notice, I honor your integrity by not biting it to see if it be counterfeit."
"Knowing your character, it is indeed a compliment," McDermott said. "Au revoir, my Quantrelle!"
"Au revoir, Monsieur l'Irlandais!"
And Dermott passed.
Inside he found the Countess waiting in the
drawing-room, and she greeted him with hands outstretched, kissing him on both cheeks in the French fashion. Afterward she stood regarding him with a slow, sweet smile, which came from one of the kindest hearts in the world.
"And this," she said, in a beautiful, quiet, warm voice, "is the Irish cousin who has not been to see me for so very long!"