"Conal seems to think so."
It was Johnnie M'Laughlin who laughed.
"And who's Conal to think so? Isn't any girl on the roads good enough for him to play the fool to?" asked McNab, waspishly.
"Best not let him hear you say so, Thad."
McNab shook his shoulders.
"I'm not frightened of Conal. The rest of ye may be."
"Still you wouldn't like that fist of his about you, Thad," Salt Watson murmured, "and Conal isn't what y' might call a respecter of persons when he's roused."
The Schoolmaster went into the dance-room. He crossed it in leisurely fashion and went to Jessie. She was sitting staring before her, a mist of tears dimming her pretty eyes.
He did not go near Deirdre, did not look at her even. But Conal dropped her hand when the Schoolmaster came into the room, and a faint bird-like fear that had fluttered in Deirdre's eyes vanished.
A little later she came to him with a breath that was almost a sob.