"I'd rather face Ballzeboob himself than her," said Macavoy. "An' she's
sure to find me."

"Not if you do as I say."

"An' what is it ye say, little man?"

"Come away with me where she'll not find you."

"An' where's that, Pierre darlin'?"

"I'll tell you that when to-night's fighting's over. Have you a mind for
Wonta?" he continued.

"I've a mind for Wonta an' many another as fine, but I'm a married man,"
he said, "by priest an' by book; an' I can't forget that, though the
woman's to me as the pit below."

Pierre looked curiously at him. "You're a wonderful fool," he said, "but
I'm not sure that I like you less for that. There was Shon M'Gann--but it
is no matter." He sighed and continued: "When to-night is over, you shall
have work and fun that you've been fattening for this many a year, and
the woman'll not find you, be sure of that. Besides--" he whispered in
Macavoy's ear.

"Poor divil, poor divil, she'd always a throat for that; but it's a
horrible death to die, I'm thinkin'." Macavoy's chin dropped on his
breast.