"We're not," said the woman quickly; "we're not matched a bit. That man and myself do be quarrelling all day and all night, and threatening to walk away from each other every minute of the time."
The man stared at her.
"Is that how it is with us?" said he.
"It is," said she to Art, "that's the way it is with us, honey. The man and myself have no love for each other now, and we never had."
The man halted suddenly; he changed the cudgel to his left hand and thrust out his right hand to her.
"Put your own hand there," said he, "and shake it well, and then be going along your road."
"What are you talking about?" said she.
He replied, frowning sternly from his wild eyes:
"I wouldn't hold the grace of God if I saw it slipping from me, so put your hand into my hand and go along your road."
Eileen Ni Cooley put her hand into his with some awkwardness and turned away her head.