lamp. Almost immediately a door to the right opened, and a dingy Irishwoman protruded her head.
“Good evening to ye, Mistress Geehan,” said the priest, unconsciously, it seemed, falling into a delicately favored brogue; “and is it yourself can tell me if Norah has gone out again, the night, maybe?”
“Oh, it’s yer blessid Riverence! Sure and I can tell ye the same. The purty darlin’ wint out as usual, but a bit later. And she says: ‘Mother Geehan,’ says she, ‘it’s me last noight out, praise the saints! this noight is.’ And, yer Riverence, the swate, beautiful drame of a dress she had this toime! White satin, and silk, and ribbons, and lace about the neck and arrums—’T was a sin, yer Riverence, the goold was spint upon it.”
The priest heard Lorison catch his breath painfully, and a faint smile flickered across his own clean-cut mouth.
