“Some people blow too hard.” He pulled off a glove and breathed on his fingers. “What a country! What a country! What brought you here? The Irish are mean enough to pick the flesh off the bones of a flea.”
“Curiosity.”
“Well, it’s curious enough; but it will never be anything more than England’s market garden, whether it’s a republic or part of the Empire.”
“There are some fine men in the movement.”
“Fine!” There was contempt in his voice. “And you an English woman!”
“Not English—Australian,” I corrected gently. “Therefore I may be counted neutral, more or less.”
He laughed. “More or less. But which?”
I shook my head.
“All the same,” I said, “you do make a mistake in thinking the Sinn Feiners are inferior.”
He caught me up, and refused to let me continue.