"But—I cannot forget! Kenny, if only you would hate me!"
"I didn't mean to love you, mavourneen. It was like the tale of Killarney. I left a cover off in my heart and a spring gushed out and flooded my life."
"I am blaming myself!"
"You must not do that. You were in love with love. You must now know how different it—" But he could not say it, courageous as he felt.
"And the money!" choked Joan. "Oh, Kenny, Kenny, the ragged money! And I gave it away. And you were so good—so good!"
He frowned, unable to understand at once the relevance of the ragged money and realized that Joan was sobbing into his shoulder the tale of an eavesdropping bartender and a doctor. He accepted it, dazedly, thunderstruck at the alertness of his Nemesis who missed no single chance to shoot an arrow.
"And Don must give that money back. I will tell him—"
"No," said Kenny. "No, he must not."
She stared at him in wonder.
"Mavourneen," he pleaded wistfully, "may I—not do that at least for someone who is yours? Don needs it."