“More tired than cold. Been at this without a break for three days and nights. It’s----!” He left the rest to me. A series of heavy thuds overhead made me look up. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “Only the chaps searching. The lady upstairs is a bad lot.” “What?” “I advise you to clear out. She’s coming into the limelight soon. Oh, we know all about her.” “She’s harmless enough,” I said. “She talks rather.” “Some people blow too hard.” He pulled off a glove and breathed on his fingers. “What a country! What a country! What brought you here? The Irish are mean enough to pick the flesh off the bones of a flea.” “Curiosity.” “Well, it’s curious enough; but it will never be anything more than England’s market garden, whether it’s a republic or part of the Empire.” “There are some fine men in the movement.” “Fine!” There was contempt in his voice. “And you an English woman!” “Not English--Australian,” I corrected gently. “Therefore I may be counted neutral, more or less.” He laughed. “More or less. But which?” I shook my head. “All the same,” I said, “you do make a mistake in thinking the Sinn Feiners are inferior.” He caught me up, and refused to let me continue. “Inferior! Of course they’re inferior! Look at them skulking round corners; look at them hiding behind women. They can’t conduct an ambush in a decent manner. Oh no; they must wait until the kids are coming out of school, then they chuck their bomb. We can’t hit them then. Oh no, they’re not a decent race. The German is honourable. The Turk is honourable. The nigger is honourable. But not a Shinner. Stick up for any mongrel race you like, but not the Irish.” His torrent of words left me gasping. “I’ve just come up from Cork,” he said, after a few moments’ pause. “If you want to see the Irish patriot in all his glory, go to Cork.” Himself came into the room. He had managed to seize a coat from somewhere; but he was shaking with cold. “I think they’re nearly through,” he said. “I hear sounds of going.” “We have just been discussing the Irish,” I said weakly. The sound of many feet clattering down the stairs cut my remarks short. My new acquaintance joined the ebbing tide and was gone. CHAPTER XIV AN AT HOME “You were able to come. I’m glad,” my hostess exclaimed. “You know every one.” Himself drifted to a far corner, where I lost him. I made my way across the great warm room towards the fireplace. Tea was progressing merrily, and I was soon seated with a cup in my hand, eating potato cakes hot from the kitchen. There were about thirty people present--grave professors, elderly people who might have been doctors or lawyers, one or two who looked like decadent poets, and lots of wives. Everybody was talking. This man had been in the post office during the Rebellion, that woman had carried the Sinn Fein flag somewhere else on that occasion. They told racy stories against themselves and against the British Government.