Nell sat by the fire and watched him tramp the room. Once Molly peeped round the door, but was frowned away. Once he tried to lay her down, but she objected with drowsy terror.
"Hold, me, Denis! Say it again!"
Presently.
"Denis, if we took all the poor mad people to Ireland, wouldn't they get better, and not want to kill theirselves any more?—Please just say it again."
"Where's Nell? I want to say good night to her."
Nell came and kissed her softly.
"Poor Nell—may she come, too, Denis?—All green—and cool—I—I can most smell it already—I like lying my cheek on the grass—like—this—it's so—cool—it smells—all—wet—Please—say it—again."
Up and down the room he went, while she slept in his arms. Nell signed to him to put her down, but he glanced down at the small white face in the blankets, and shook his head.
But at last he put her into her bed, and covered her up. For a minute they stood waiting, but Sheila Pat lay still, her breathing soft and regular.
Denis turned to Nell; he put his hand on her shoulder, marched her out of the room, and into the Stronghold.