He felt it oddly, this loss. The drowning of many men and women and children affected him merely as a vague, impersonal thing. "Yes, it's dreadful," he would say when he thought of it, but he was not moved by it. When he remembered Tom Arthurs he was stirred, but less than Ninian had been. He could see him now, just as he had stood in the shipyard that day when John Marsh and Henry had been with him, and he had watched the workmen pouring through the gates. "Those are my pals!" he had said.... Poor Tom Arthurs! Destroyed with the thing that he had conceived and his "pals" had built! But perhaps that was as he would have wished. It would have hurt Tom Arthurs to have lived on after the _Gigantic_ had gone down.... It was not the drowning of a crowd of people or the drowning of Tom Arthurs that most affected Henry. It was the fact that a boat built by Belfast men had foundered on her maiden trip, on a clear, cold night of stars, reeling from the iceberg's blow like a flimsy yacht. He had the Ulsterman's pride in the Ulsterman's power, and he liked to boast that the best ships in the world were built on the Lagan.... "By God," he said to himself, "this'll break their hearts in Belfast!" The cab drew up before the door of Cecily's house, and in a little while he was with her. "Have you heard about the _Gigantic_?" he said, as he walked across the room to her. "Oh, yes," she answered, "isn't it dreadful? Come and sit down here!" He had not greeted her otherwise than by his question about the _Gigantic_, and she frowned a little as she made room for him beside her on the sofa. "That great boat!..." he began, but she interrupted him. "I suppose you're still cross," she said. "Cross?" "Yes. You haven't even shaken hands with me!" He remembered now. "Oh!" he said in confusion, but could say no more. "Are you really going to Ireland?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm. "Yes," he answered, feeling his resolution weakening just because she had touched him. "But why?" "You know why!" he said. Her hand dropped from his arm. "I don't know why," she exclaimed pettishly, and he saw and disliked the way her lips turned downwards as she said it. "I can't bear it, Cecily," he exclaimed. "I must have you to myself or ... or not have you at all!" "Perfectly absurd!" she murmured. "It isn't absurd. How can you expect me to feel happy when I see you going off with Jimphy? Can't you understand, Cecily? Here I am with you now, but if Jimphy were to come into the room, I should have to ... to give way, to pretend that I'm not in love with you!" "I can't see what difference it makes," she said. "Jimphy and I don't interfere with each other. It's ridiculous to make all this fuss. I don't see any necessity to go about telling everybody!..." "I didn't propose that," he interrupted. "Yes, you did, Paddy, dear! You asked me to run away with you, and what's that but telling everybody?"