“Has he a wife here?”
“Woife, sor? Not he!”
“A troop of mistresses, then, or a harem?”
“Divil a bit, sor. He’s riddy to shoot the boys whiniver they take a new wife—Ingin or white. I belave he hates the whole sex, and thinks women is divils, sor. Why, he hit Black Mazzard once, sor, for asking him why he didn’t choose a pretty gyurl, and not live like a monk.”
“Is he brave?”
“Yes, sor; and I wouldn’t anger him if I were you.”
“Not I,” said Humphrey. “There, the sickness has passed off. Now, help me out into the sunshine.”
“Help ye out?” said Dinny, looking puzzled.
“Yes; into the bright sunshine. I seem to be decaying away here, man, and the warm light will give me strength.”
“Shure, an’ if I do, Black Mazzard will pison me wid a pishtol-ball.”