“We’re all like that, perhaps,” said Hugh, smiling.
“Faith, and it’s a good thing too,” was the reply. “And to whom but your Mother should you be going when you’re sick, and in whose arms but hers should you be dying?”
And then there was a silence, broken occasionally by little remarks from Hugh, who, coward though he might have been once, and more than once, was no coward now that he was dying. And Father O’Sullivan had responded with little tender speeches, such as a mother indeed might make to a child.
And now he was walking towards Muriel’s house in Cadogan Place, and thanking God in his kind, big old heart for a soul which had passed peacefully away.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FINE WAY
I
“And so,” said Father O’Sullivan, blowing his nose, “I came right along to tell you, and ask you what is the next step to take.”
“Poor chap!” ejaculated Tommy, delivering himself of a huge sigh. He was standing on the hearthrug, immaculately attired in dinner jacket, white shirt-front, and all the rest of the paraphernalia.