place wouldn't be so lonesome as this place, where there aren't
two living souls would see the little light you have shining from
the glass.

NORA
[Slowly.] I'm thinking many would be afeard, but I never knew
what way I'd be afeard of beggar or bishop or any man of you at
all. (She looks towards the window and lowers her voice.) It's
other things than the like of you, stranger, would make a person
afeard.

TRAMP
[Looking round with a half-shudder.] It is surely, God help us
all!

NORA
[Looking at him for a moment with curiosity.] You're saying
that, stranger, as if you were easy afeard.

TRAMP
[Speaking mournfully.] Is it myself, lady of the house, that does
be walking round in the long nights, and crossing the hills when
the fog is on them, the time a little stick would seem as big as
your arm, and a rabbit as big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf
as big as a towering church in the city of Dublin? If myself was
easily afeard, I'm telling you, it's long ago I'ld have been
locked into the Richmond Asylum, or maybe have run up into the
back hills with nothing on me but an old shirt, and been eaten
with crows the like of Patch Darcy -- the Lord have mercy on him
-- in the year that's gone.