"I'm glad you told me, Henry," he said quietly when Henry had finished. "I'm sorry I thought you were meanin' the girl an injury. I beg your pardon for that, Henry. The girl's a decent girl, a well-meant girl ... a well-meant girl!... I wish to God, you were at Trinity, my son! Come on, now, an' have somethin' to ate. Begod, I'm hungry. I could ate a horse. I could ate two horses!..." He put his arm in Henry's and they left the library together. "You'll get over it, my son, you'll get over it. It does a lad good to break his heart now an' again. Teaches him the way the world works! Opens his mind for him, an' lets him get a notion of the feel of things!..." They were just outside the dining-room when he said that. Mr. Quinn turned and looked at Henry for a second or two, and it seemed to Henry that he was about to say something intimate to him, but he did not do so: he turned away quickly and opened the door. "I suppose John Marsh is eatin' all the food," he said with extraordinary heartiness. "Are you eatin' all the food, John Marsh? I'll wring your damned neck if you are!..." 4 That evening, after dinner, Mr. Quinn and John Marsh were sitting together. Henry had gone out of the room for a while, leaving Mr. Quinn to smoke a cigar while John Marsh corrected some exercises by the students of the Language class. "Marsh!" Mr. Quinn said suddenly, after a long silence. Marsh looked up quickly. "Yes, Mr. Quinn!" he replied. "Henry's in love!..." "Is he?" "Yes. With that girl. Sheila Morgan, Matt Hamilton's niece!" Marsh put his exercises aside. "Dear me!" he exclaimed. There did not appear to be anything else to say. "So I'm goin' to send him away," Mr. Quinn went on. "Away?" "Yes. I don't quite know where I shall send him. It's too soon yet to send him up to Trinity. I've a notion of sendin' you an' him on a walkin' tour in Connacht. The pair of you can talk that damned language 'til you're sick of it with the people that understands it!" Marsh was delighted. He thought that Mr. Quinn's proposal was excellent, and he was certain that it would be very good for Henry to come into contact with people to whom the language was native. "Wheesht a minute, Marsh!" Mr. Quinn interrupted. "I want to talk to you about Henry. It's a big thing for a lad of his age to fall in love!" "I suppose it is." "There's no supposin' about it. It is! He's just at the age when women begin to matter to a man, an' I don't want him to go an' get into any bother over the head of them!" "Bother?" "Aye. Do you never think about women, John Marsh?" "Oh, yes. Sometimes. One can't help it now and then!..."