“Inferior! Of course they’re inferior! Look at them skulking round corners; look at them hiding behind women. They can’t conduct an ambush in a decent manner. Oh no; they must wait until the kids are coming out of school, then they chuck their bomb. We can’t hit them then. Oh no, they’re not a decent race. The German is honourable. The Turk is honourable. The nigger is honourable. But not a Shinner. Stick up for any mongrel race you like, but not the Irish.”
His torrent of words left me gasping.
“I’ve just come up from Cork,” he said, after a few moments’ pause. “If you want to see the Irish patriot in all his glory, go to Cork.”
Himself came into the room. He had managed to seize a coat from somewhere; but he was shaking with cold.
“I think they’re nearly through,” he said. “I hear sounds of going.”
“We have just been discussing the Irish,” I said weakly.
The sound of many feet clattering down the stairs cut my remarks short. My new acquaintance joined the ebbing tide and was gone.
CHAPTER XIV
AN AT HOME
“You were able to come. I’m glad,” my hostess exclaimed. “You know every one.”