"'We are going to be married to-morrow, and next week we sail for the States. I live, sir, in Chicago City, and if you are ever in America Lucy and myself will esteem it an honour if you will come to see us.
"'Lucy would write to you herself if she were not tired, having had to look after many things.
"'I am, dear sir,
"'Very sincerely yours,
"'JAMES WAINSCOTT.'"
"Lucy wanted life," said Rodney, "and she will find her adventure sooner or later. Poor Lucy!"
"Lucy is the stuff the great women are made of and will make a noise in the world yet."
"It is well she has gone; for it is many years since there was honour in Ireland for a Grania."
"Maybe you'll meet her in Paris and will do another statue from her."
"It wouldn't be the same thing. Ah! my statue, my poor statue. Nothing but a lump of clay. I nearly went out of my mind. At first I thought it was the priest who ordered it to be broken. But no, two little boys who heard a priest talking. They tell strange stories in Dublin about that statue. It appears that, after seeing it, Father McCabe went straight to Father Brennan, and the priests sat till midnight, sipping their punch and considering this fine point of theology—if a man may ask a woman to sit naked to him; and then if it would be justifiable to employ a naked woman for a statue of the Virgin. Father Brennan said, 'Nakedness is not a sin,' and Father McCabe said, 'Nakedness may not be in itself a sin, but it leads to sin, and is therefore unjustifiable.' At their third tumbler of punch they had reached Raphael, and at the fourth Father McCabe held that bad statues were more likely to excite devotional feelings than good ones, bad statues being further removed from perilous Nature."