"May I, then? But I would only be in the way," suggested Molly.
"Not one bit, Molly. Come and listen to my wonderful tale of adventure—a story of robbers slain, wild animals subdued, good fairies and witches," said Desmond.
"I hope you are minding your soul. It is a dangerous place for young men, is Melbourne," said Mrs. Quirk.
"Oh, that's all right," replied Desmond, airily. "I am not on the side of the saints or the sinners."
Molly Healy noted this reply, but she abstained from commenting on it. She was shrewd enough to recognise that the man who boasts of lukewarmness is generally something less than tepid.
"You will be coming to see the Father?" she suggested.
"You must make my excuses, Molly. I am here to-day and back in Melbourne to-morrow. I have fallen on my feet. Where do you think I am working?" he asked Kathleen as they walked towards the house.
"On a paper," she suggested.
"No; in an advertising agency, the biggest in Melbourne, drawing posters for them, and helping in the business. I shall be a partner before long. Jackson, the boss, has been a good friend to me, and Mrs. Jackson might be a mother, and Sylvia—a sister."
The hesitation that preceded the latter part of this speech was not lost upon Molly Healy. It caused her a spasm of pain that was sharp, if it was only short-lived, for she was a girl, if a sensible and healthy one, and she always had greatly admired Desmond O'Connor.