GIRLS -- [clustering round him, serving him.] -- Glory be.
WIDOW QUIN. And what did he want driving you to wed with her? [She takes a
bit of the chicken.]
CHRISTY -- [eating with growing satisfaction.] He was letting on I was
wanting a protector from the harshness of the world, and he without a thought
the whole while but how he'd have her hut to live in and her gold to drink.
WIDOW QUIN. There's maybe worse than a dry hearth and a widow woman and your
glass at night. So you hit him then?
CHRISTY -- [getting almost excited.] -- I did not. "I won't wed her," says I,
"when all know she did suckle me for six weeks when I came into the world, and
she a hag this day with a tongue on her has the crows and seabirds scattered,
the way they wouldn't cast a shadow on her garden with the dread of her
curse."
WIDOW QUIN -- [teasingly.] That one should be right company.
SARA -- [eagerly.] Don't mind her. Did you kill him then?
CHRISTY. "She's too good for the like of you," says he, "and go on now or
I'll flatten you out like a crawling beast has passed under a dray." "You
will not if I can help it," says I. "Go on," says he, "or I'll have the divil
making garters of your limbs tonight." "You will not if I can help it," says
I. [He sits up, brandishing his mug.]
SARA. You were right surely.
CHRISTY -- [impressively.] With that the sun came out between the cloud and
the hill, and it shining green in my face. "God have mercy on your soul,"
says he, lifting a scythe; "or on your own," says I, raising the loy.
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