“Ah, what was I afther sayin’, Misther——”
“Never mind what you said or left unsaid! I want to ask you another question. Who was Eileen Fane?”
Soane bounded to his feet, his blue eyes ablaze:
“Holy Mother o’ God! What have I said!”
“Was Eileen Fane your wife?”
“Did I say her blessed name!” shouted Soane. “Sorra the sup I tuk that loosed the tongue o’ me this cursed day! ’Twas the dommed whishkey inside o’ me that told ye that—not me—not Larry Soane! Wurra the day I said it! An’ listen, now, f’r the love o’ God! Take pride to yourself, sorr, for all the goodness ye done to Dulcie.
“An’ av I go, and I come no more to vex her, I thank God ’tis in a gintleman’s hands the child do be——” He choked; his marred hands dropped by his side, and he stared dumbly at Barres for a moment. Then:
“Av I come no more, will ye guard her?”
“Yes.”
“Will ye do fair by her, Misther Barres?”