"Tell him all," said Brian. He talked hurriedly of his plans.
Kenny held out his hand.
"God speed, boy!" he said.
Garry—unsentimental Garry—blinked as the car shot down the lane. He clashed his gears and shuddered.
Brian stared.
"Phew!" he whistled as Joan came down the steps. "Garry's driving like a blacksmith."
They clung to each other in the dark and watched the headlights play upon the trees.
From the end of the lane came Kenny's final gift of reassurance. His rollicking voice swept into the quiet, soft with brogue, as care-free in song as it had been earlier in laughter:
"'I'll love thee evermore
Eileen a roon!
I'll bless thee o'er and o'er
Eileen a roon!'"
Brian laughed softly.