Elsie carried round the plates and they began the meal. After a brief pause Nell and Lucy came back into the room and silently resumed their places; but a considerable interval elapsed before the opening of the outer door into the scullery told of the entrance of the latest comers. Maggie came in looking flushed and nervous. Oliver entered behind her, swaggering a little, his bold eyes somewhat fierce. “Hullo!” he said. “That’s right. I said you’d begin. We’d better sit down as we are.” Maggie’s place was next to her mother. He pulled out the chair for her, and she dropped into it speechlessly. “What have you been doing?” said Arthur. He spoke quietly, but his tone was ominous. Maggie threw him one swift glance and then lowered her eyes. “Everything’s all right,” said Oliver, with a touch of aggressiveness. “We thought we’d make a day of it. I’ll tell you all about it presently.” “You’ll tell me now,” Arthur said. “Oh, all right.” Oliver stood with his hand upon the back of Maggie’s chair. He bent suddenly over her. “Sure you want me to tell, Maggie?” he said. She put up a trembling hand in answer. Abruptly he stooped lower and kissed her before them all. The violent overturning of Arthur’s chair as he sprang to his feet brought him upright again with a jerk. He broke in upon the other’s furious oath with quick speech that yet was not wholly uncontrolled. “Yes, you can damn as much as you please,” he said. “It won’t make a ha’porth of difference now. She is mine—for better for worse—and you can’t undo it. We were married to-day at Fordestown—after we’d sold the pigs.” “Married!” The single word fell with frightful force from Arthur’s lips. He put his hand suddenly to his head. Maggie crouched against her mother, and Mrs. Dermot, pale as death, put her arm about her without a word. Then across the silence, shrill as the piping of a bird, came Nell’s voice. “Well played, Oliver! I wish you luck!” He turned to her with his winning boyish smile and gripped her outstretched hand across the table. “Thanks, little ’un! You’re a brick, and I’ll always remember it.” Elsie left her end of the table and came round to Maggie. Lucy cowered in her chair and hid her face. Arthur’s hand fell and clenched at his side. He spoke—not to Oliver, but to Maggie. “Is this true?” She looked up at him with an effort. Through quivering lips she answered him. “Yes.” “You are—actually married—to this—damned—clod?” Oliver straightened himself sharply. “I’ll answer that question,” he said. “Come outside and I’ll show you the exact stuff he’s made of!” But at that Maggie left her mother’s sheltering arm and got up. She stood between the two men, breathing very fast. “You shan’t fight about me,” she said. “You’ve nothing to fight about, for I belong to Oliver and always shall, from now on. I’ve the right—as every woman has—to choose my own mate, and I’ve chosen. That’s all there is to it.”