‘That is military morality,’ said Walpole, in a half-whisper to Kate, but to be overheard by Nina. ‘We poor civilians don’t understand how to keep a debtor and creditor account with conscience.’ ‘Could you manage to provoke that man to quarrel with you?’ said Nina secretly to Gorman, while her eyes glanced towards Walpole. ‘I think I might; but what then? _He_ wouldn’t fight, and the rest of England would shun me.’ ‘That is true,’ said she slowly. ‘When any is injured here, he tries to make money out of it. I don’t suppose you want money?’ ‘Not earned in that fashion, certainly. But I think they are saying good-night.’ ‘They’re always boasting about the man that found out the safety-lamp,’ said old Kearney, as he moved away; ‘but give me the fellow that invented a flat candlestick!’ CHAPTER XLIII SOME NIGHT-THOUGHTS When Gorman reached his room, into which a rich flood of moonlight was streaming, he extinguished his candle, and, seating himself at the open window, lighted his cigar, seriously believing he was going to reflect on his present condition, and forecast something of the future. Though he had spoken so cavalierly of outstaying his time, and accepting arrest afterwards, the jest was by no means so palatable now that he was alone, and could own to himself that the leave he possessed was the unlimited liberty to be houseless and a vagabond, to have none to claim, no roof to shelter him. His aunt’s law-agent, the same Mr. McKeown who acted for Lord Kilgobbin, had once told Gorman that all the King’s County property of the O’Sheas was entailed upon him, and that his aunt had no power to alienate it. It is true the old lady disputed this position, and so strongly resented even allusion to it, that, for the sake of inheriting that twelve thousand pounds she possessed in Dutch stock, McKeown warned Gorman to avoid anything that might imply his being aware of this fact. Whether a general distrust of all legal people and their assertions was the reason, or whether mere abstention from the topic had impaired the force of its truth, or whether--more likely than either--he would not suffer himself to question the intentions of one to whom he owed so much, certain is it young O’Shea almost felt as much averse to the belief as the old lady herself, and resented the thought of its being true, as of something that would detract from the spirit of the affection she had always borne him, and that he repaid by a love as faithful.