yard?

MOLLY BYRNE -- [working indifferently.] -- You've great romancing
this day, Martin Doul. Was it up at the still you were at the
fall of night?

MARTIN DOUL -- [stands up, comes towards her, but stands at far
(right) side of well.] -- It was not, Molly Byrne, but lying down
in a little rickety shed. . . . Lying down across a sop of
straw, and I thinking I was seeing you walk, and hearing the
sound of your step on a dry road, and hearing you again, and you
laughing and making great talk in a high room with dry timber
lining the roof. For it's a fine sound your voice has that time,
and it's better I am, I'm thinking, lying down, the way a blind
man does be lying, than to be sitting here in the gray light
taking hard words of Timmy the smith.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [looking at him with interest.] -- It's queer talk
you have if it's a little, old, shabby stump of a man you are
itself.

MARTIN DOUL. I'm not so old as you do hear them say.

MOLLY BYRNE. You're old, I'm thinking, to be talking that talk
with a girl.

MARTIN DOUL -- [despondingly.] -- It's not a lie you're telling,
maybe, for it's long years I'm after losing from the world,
feeling love and talking love, with the old woman, and I fooled
the whole while with the lies of Timmy the smith.