"I mind it well," I answered. "You said that he was dead when he dropped on the form."
"And do ye mind the day that ye went over beyont the mountains with yer bundle under yer arm? I met ye on the road and ye said that ye were never comin' back."
"You did not care whether I returned or not," I said resentfully, unable to account for my mood of the moment. "You did not even stop to bid me good-bye."
"I was frightened of ye."
"Why were you frightened?"
"I don't know."
"But you did not even turn and look after me," I said.
"That was because I knew that ye, yerself, was lookin' behind."
"Do you remember the night on the 'Derry boat?" I asked.
"Quite well do I mind it, Dermod," she replied. "I often be thinkin' of them days, I do, indeed."