"Done!" says Larry. "And for board and lodging I'll sing you Ballyshone after dinner."
So he did too, and if you've ever heard it well sung, you'll know the lump I had in my throat as I listened. Also I had him tell Sadie about Katie McDevitt; and when he'd made friends with little Sully and the dog we could have kept him for a year and a day.
But that Sunday afternoon, while we was swingin' out of the front gates for a walk, we stops to let a limousine whizz by, and we gets a glimpse of a woman's face through the windows.
"Lord love you, McCabe!" says Larry, grippin' me by the arm, "but who was that?"
"In the car?" says I. "No one but Mrs. Sam Steele."
"Mrs., did you say?" says he.
"The rich widow," says I, "that lives in the big house over on the Shore Drive." I pointed it out.
"A widow!" says he. "Thanks be! Shorty, she's the one!"
"Not your Miss McDevitt?" says I.
"No other," says he. "I'd swear it!"