[People laugh heartily.]
MARTIN DOUL.
bewildered. — It’s Molly’s voice you have.
MOLLY BYRNE.
Why wouldn’t I have my own voice? Do you think I’m a ghost?
MARTIN DOUL.
Which of you all is herself? (He goes up to Bride.) Is it you is Mary Doul? I’m thinking you’re more the like of what they said (peering at her.) For you’ve yellow hair, and white skin, and it’s the smell of my own turf is rising from your shawl.
[He catches her shawl.]
BRIDE.
pulling away her shawl. — I’m not your wife, and let you get out of my way.
[The People laugh again.]
MARTIN DOUL.
with misgiving, to another Girl. — Is it yourself it is? You’re not so fine-looking, but I’m thinking you’d do, with the grand nose you have, and your nice hands and your feet.
GIRL.
scornfully. — I never seen any person that took me for blind, and a seeing woman, I’m thinking, would never wed the like of you.
[She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a little and leaving him on their left.]