For all that we're worth,
But what odds where you and I go,
We never shall meet
A spot so sweet
As the beautiful city of Sligo."
Conan: What ailed me that I didn't leave her
as she was before.
Celia: (Stopping work.) What way are they now?
Conan: (Having cleaned his boots, putting them
on hurriedly.) They're very good. (Wipes his brow,
drawing hand across leaving mark of blacking.)
Celia: The time I told you to put black on
your shoes I didn't bid you rub it upon your brow!
Conan: I didn't put it in any wrong place.