"Divil a bit, sorr."
"I want you and Mrs. Connor to sleep in the house for the present. And I do not wish you to answer any questions from anybody concerning either Miss Greensleeve or myself. Can I depend on you?"
"You can, sorr."
"I'm sure of it. Now, I'd like to have you go to the village and buy me something to shave with and to comb my hair with. I had not intended to remain here over night, but I did not care to leave Miss Greensleeve entirely alone in the house."
"Sure, sorr, Jenny was fixed f'r to stay—"
"I know. Miss Greensleeve told her she might go home. It was a misunderstanding. But I want her to remain hereafter until Miss Greensleeve's servants come from New York."
So Connor went away to the village and Clive seated himself on a garden bench to wait.
Nothing stirred inside the house; the shades in Athalie's room remained lowered.
He watched the chimney swifts soaring and darting above the house. A faint dun-coloured haze crowned
the kitchen chimney. Mrs. Connor was already busy over their breakfast.