says Mr. Kelly, wearily. "But I
have managed it. You're as bad a case as ever I came across, Ronayne,
and I pity you. But, 'pon my soul, I respect you too," with a flash of
admiration: "there is nothing like being thoroughly in earnest. And so I
wish you luck in your wooing."

"You're a very good fellow, Kelly," says Ronayne gratefully.

In the mean time, Olga, tiring of tearing her grasses to pieces, looks
up at Hermia.

"How silent you are!" she says.

"I thought that was what you wanted,--silence. You have been talking all
day. And, besides, if I speak at all, it will be only to condemn."

"Nevertheless speak. Anything is better than this ghastly quiet; and,
besides, frankly, I need not mind you, you know."

"You are flirting disgracefully with that Ronayne boy."

"What harm, if he _is_ a boy?"

"He is not such a boy as all that comes to; and, if you don't _mean_ it,
you are overkind to him."

"He is my baby," says Olga, with a little laugh; "I often tell him so.
Why should I _not_ be kind to him?"

"Oh, if you are _bent_ on it."

"I am bent on nothing. You do run away so with things!"

"I think you might do better."

"I'm not going to do anything," says the widow. She throws off her hat,
and ruffles up all her pretty pale gold hair with impatient fingers.

"Oh! if you can _assure_ me of that!"

"I don't want to assure you of anything."

"So I thought. That is why I say you might do better."

"I might do worse, too."

"Perhaps. But still I cannot forget there was Wolverhampton last year. A
title is not to be despised; and he was devoted to you, and would, I
think, have made a good husband."

"I daresay. He was fool enough for anything. And I liked him, rather;
but there was something in him--wasn't there, now, Hermia?--something
positively enraging at times."

"I suppose, then, your fancy for young Ronayne arises from the fact that
there is _nothing_ in him," says Hermia, maliciously: "that's his charm,
is it?"

Mrs. Bohun laughs.

"I don't suppose there is very much in him," she says: "that in itself
is such a relief. Wolverhampton was so overpowering about those
hydraulics. Ulic isn't a savant, certainly, and I don't think he will
ever set the Liffey afire, but he is 'pleasant too to think on.' Now,
mind you, I don't believe I care a pin about Ulic Ronayne,--he is
younger than I am, for one thing,--but still I don't care to hear him
abused."

"I am not abusing him," says Hermia. "It