walking the world telling out your story to young girls or old.

CHRISTY. I've told my story no place till this night, Pegeen Mike, and it's
foolish I was here, maybe, to be talking free, but you're decent people, I'm
thinking, and yourself a kindly woman, the way I wasn't fearing you at all.

PEGEEN -- [filling a sack with straw.] -- You've said the like of that, maybe,
in every cot and cabin where you've met a young girl on your way.

CHRISTY -- [going over to her, gradually raising his voice.] -- I've said it
nowhere till this night, I'm telling you, for I've seen none the like of you
the eleven long days I am walking the world, looking over a low ditch or a
high ditch on my north or my south, into stony scattered fields, or scribes of
bog, where you'd see young, limber girls, and fine prancing women making
laughter with the men.

PEGEEN. If you weren't destroyed travelling, you'd have as much talk and
streeleen, I'm thinking, as Owen Roe O'Sullivan or the poets of the Dingle
Bay, and I've heard all times it's the poets are your like, fine fiery fellows
with great rages when their temper's roused.

CHRISTY -- [drawing a little nearer to her.] -- You've a power of rings, God
bless you, and would there be any offence if I was asking are you single now?

PEGEEN. What would I want wedding so young?

CHRISTY -- [with relief.] -- We're alike, so.

PEGEEN -- [she puts sack on settle and beats it up.] -- I never killed my
father. I'd be afeard to do that, except I was the like of yourself with