"And how did you like the fairies?" said Terence.
"The Good People? They were very kind to me and I liked them very much, but I wouldn't have let them keep me—I wouldn't have stayed—so long, if I had known."
"You wouldn't have let them? You wouldn't have stayed? And what would you have done?"
"I don't know," said Kathleen.
"And who was there besides the fairies?" Terence asked.
"Why, there was—oh, I don't want to talk to you about it, and I don't think you ought to make me."
"You don't need," said Terence. "I know who was there. I know who he is and what he is, and I know the kind of talk that he talked to you. He made love to you. I know that well enough. That's what he would do. But do you mind the promise that your father made to my father the day after we was born? I want you should remember that promise."
"It was no promise at all," Kathleen said, "and I won't let you talk to me that way, and I don't see that it matters to you what he—what anybody said to me anywhere, and I won't tell you any more."
"Ah!" said Terence; "he did make love to you. And you think you can talk any way you like to me and you won't let me talk any way I like to you. Do you know that his staying in that hill with the fairies depends on me? Do you know that—"
Terence turned to see if anybody else was listening and saw Mrs. O'Brien looking straight at him. He stopped short in what he was saying, and then, speaking lower, he went on: "Don't dare to tell anybody what I was saying to you; you don't know what I can do, but I might show you if I took the notion."