carcase that you'd fling upon the sea. . .

WIDOW QUIN -- [more soberly.] -- There's talking for a man's one only son.

CHRISTY -- [breaking out.] -- His one son, is it? May I meet him with one
tooth and it aching, and one eye to be seeing seven and seventy divils in the
twists of the road, and one old timber leg on him to limp into the scalding
grave. (Looking out.) There he is now crossing the strands, and that the
Lord God would send a high wave to wash him from the world.

WIDOW QUIN -- [scandalised.] Have you no shame? (putting her hand on his
shoulder and turning him round.) What ails you? Near crying, is it?

CHRISTY -- [in despair and grief.] -- Amn't I after seeing the love-light of
the star of knowledge shining from her brow, and hearing words would put you
thinking on the holy Brigid speaking to the infant saints, and now she'll be
turning again, and speaking hard words to me, like an old woman with a
spavindy ass she'd have, urging on a hill.

WIDOW QUIN. There's poetry talk for a girl you'd see itching and scratching,
and she with a stale stink of poteen on her from selling in the shop.

CHRISTY -- [impatiently.] It's her like is fitted to be handling merchandise
in the heavens above, and what'll I be doing now, I ask you, and I a kind of
wonder was jilted by the heavens when a day was by. [There is a distant noise
of girls' voices. Widow Quin looks from window and comes to him, hurriedly.

WIDOW QUIN. You'll be doing like myself, I'm thinking, when I did destroy my
man, for I'm above many's the day, odd times in great spirits, abroad in the
sunshine, darning a stocking or stitching a shift; and odd times again looking