breathing on the stones. (He listens towards her for a moment,
then starts up nervously, and gropes about for his stick.) I'll
be going now, I'm thinking, but I'm not sure what place my
stick's in, and I'm destroyed with terror and dread. (He touches
her face as he is groping about and cries out.) There's a thing
with a cold, living face on it sitting up at my side. (He turns
to run away, but misses his path and stumbles in against the
wall.) My road is lost on me now! Oh, merciful God, set my foot
on the path this day, and I'll be saying prayers morning and
night, and not straining my ear after young girls, or doing any
bad thing till I die.

MARY DOUL -- [indignantly.] -- Let you not be telling lies to the
Almighty God.

MARTIN DOUL. Mary Doul, is it? (Recovering himself with immense
relief.) Is it Mary Doul, I'm saying?

MARY DOUL. There's a sweet tone in your voice I've not heard for
a space. You're taking me for Molly Byrne, I'm thinking.

MARTIN DOUL -- [coming towards her, wiping sweat from his face.]
-- Well, sight's a queer thing for upsetting a man. It's a queer
thing to think I'd live to this day to be fearing the like of
you; but if it's shaken I am for a short while, I'll soon be
coming to myself.

MARY DOUL. You'll be grand then, and it's no lie.

MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down shyly, some way off.] -- You've no