"I see, you are the delicate subject, and what then?"
"And I want to marry her, sir."
"That's not delicacy, that's disease, young man. Have you spoken to
Julia Elizabeth about this?"
"No, sir, I wanted first to obtain your and Mrs. O'Reilly's permission to approach her."
"And quite right, too," said the lady warmly. "Isn't it delightful," she continued, "to see a young, bashful youth telling of his love for our dear child? Doesn't it make you think of Moore's beautiful song, 'Love's Young Dream,' O'Reilly?"
"It does not," her husband snapped, "I never heard of the song I tell you, and I never want to."
He turned again to the youth—
"If you are in earnest about this, you have my permission to court Julia Elizabeth as much as she'll let you. But don't blame me if she marries you. People who take risks must expect accidents. Don't go about lamenting that I hooked you in, or led you on, or anything like that.—I tell you, here and now, that she has a rotten temper—"
His wife was aghast—
"For shame, O'Reilly," said she.