Joan stared absently at the road ahead.
"To Ireland," she said.
The answer pleased him.
"I mind me," he said instantly, "of an Irish tale of Finn McCoul."
Joan did not answer.
"Tell me," she said at last. "Finn and you are always delightful."
Kenny stared at her in marked reproach.
"Joan!" he exclaimed.
"What—what is it, Kenny?"
"That's just the sort of polite nothing you learned in New York!"