PEGEEN. _putting letter in envelope._—It’s above at the cross-roads he is, meeting Philly Cullen; and a couple more are going along with him to Kate Cassidy’s wake.
SHAWN. _looking at her blankly._—And he’s going that length in the dark night?
PEGEEN. _impatiently._—He is surely, and leaving me lonesome on the scruff of the hill. (_She gets up and puts envelope on dresser, then winds the clock._) Isn’t it long the nights are now, Shawn Keogh, to be leaving a poor girl with her own self counting the hours to the dawn of day?
SHAWN. _with awkward humour._—If it is, when we’re wedded in a short while you’ll have no call to complain, for I’ve little will to be walking off to wakes or weddings in the darkness of the night.
PEGEEN. _with rather scornful good humour._—You’re making mighty certain, Shaneen, that I’ll wed you now.
SHAWN. Aren’t we after making a good bargain, the way we’re only waiting these days on Father Reilly’s dispensation from the bishops, or the Court of Rome.
PEGEEN. _looking at him teasingly, washing up at dresser._—It’s a wonder, Shaneen, the Holy Father’d be taking notice of the likes of you; for if I was him I wouldn’t bother with this place where you’ll meet none but Red Linahan, has a squint in his eye, and Patcheen is lame in his heel, or the mad Mulrannies were driven from California and they lost in their wits. We’re a queer lot these times to go troubling the Holy Father on his sacred seat.
SHAWN. _scandalized._—If we are, we’re as good this place as another, maybe, and as good these times as we were for ever.
PEGEEN. _with scorn._—As good, is it? Where now will you meet the like of Daneen Sullivan knocked the eye from a peeler, or Marcus Quin, God rest him, got six months for maiming ewes, and he a great warrant to tell stories of holy Ireland till he’d have the old women shedding down tears about their feet. Where will you find the like of them, I’m saying?
SHAWN. _timidly._—If you don’t it’s a good job, maybe; for (_with peculiar emphasis on the words_) Father Reilly has small conceit to have that kind walking around and talking to the girls.
PEGEEN. _impatiently, throwing water from basin out of the door._—Stop tormenting me with Father Reilly (_imitating his voice_) when I’m asking only what way I’ll pass these twelve hours of dark, and not take my death with the fear. (_Looking out of door._)
