“And what’s this?” he cried, glancing at the Virgin’s picture and the little black crucifix. He turned to the girl and saw that a tear which she hastily tried to brush away was rolling down her cheek.
“Ye’re a Catholic too,” he said in a milder voice. “It’s damned hard luck. I myself am a Catholic, at least I was born one, but now I’m—well, I’m nothin’.... A Catholic feels it most.... I’ve always said that one may find women a great lot worse than women—than a woman like yerself. The ladies that can gorge themselves at table when ye have to do the likes of this for a livin’ are more guilty of yer sin than ye are yerself.... Ye know I’m a bit drunk; not much wrong with me, though, for I can see things clearly. If I’m a bit groggy ’twas mostly the fault of that one-armed swine. But I forgive him.... I’m an advanced thinker.... What is yer name?”
“Jean.”
“I mean yer real name. It’s rarely that an Irishman calls his children by names unbeknown in his own country. Sit closer. There! ye’re a nice girl. I like yer brow, it’s so white, and yer lips, they’re so pretty. Now, give me a kiss. It’s nice to have a girl like yerself on my knee. I’m three sheets in the wind, but I like ye. I’m an advanced thinker and I’ve read, oh! ever so much: Darwin, Huxley. Have ye ever heard of these men?”
“Never,” Norah answered. “Who are they?”
“They are the great minds of the world. They are the men who proved that there was no heaven and no God.”
“But there is a God!”
“If there is, why do ye suffer like this?”
“Because I’m bad.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed the man. “How funny! how very funny! Ye are a child, and God would feel honoured if ye allowed Him to lace yer shoes. If ye kept very good and pure He might let ye to heaven when ye died—but would He give ye a pair of shoes in mid-winter?... There’s no God.... Kiss me again. By heaven! If ye weren’t so good lookin’ and so temptin’ I’d be generous. I’d go down on my knees and salute ye as a representative of sufferin’ womankind, and then go away feelin’ honoured if ye only allowed me to kiss your hand. But ye are so winsome! I should like ye to be always pure, but why do men like purity in a woman? They like it so that they can take it away, so that they can kill that which they love. But what am I talkin’ about anyway? I’m drunk; not so much—just three sheets in the wind or so. I can see things clearly. I’m a learned man and I know things, bein’ a great traveller, and a worker on half the docks in the world, and a sailor too. A.B. before the mast I am. I’ve seen things in my time, many things, most of them unjust, very unjust. It’s seven years since I left home, think of that! Yer father came from Ireland, ye say. What part of the country did he come from?”