“There she is, outside the door.”
“Put her in,” said he.
When he went out she was gone.
“Lay down your head upon the anvil, that I may cut it off you.”
“I am asking of you the favour of three days, to go and seek her.”
“I will give you that,” said he.
He went with himself then, and was following her tracks till he came to the sea. He was up and down on the shore, plucking his hair from his head, in trouble after the Gloss. There was a man out on the sea in a currach. He rowed in to him. It was the tawny Mananaun, the son of Lir. He asked him—
“What is the matter with you to-day?”
He told him.