rld, feeling love and
talking love, with the old woman, and I fooled the whole while with the
lies of Timmy the smith.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [half invitingly.] -- It's a fine way you're wanting to
pay Timmy the smith.... And it's not his LIES you're making love to this
day, Martin Doul.

MARTIN DOUL. It is not, Molly, and the Lord forgive us all. (He passes
behind her and comes near her left.) For I've heard tell there are lands
beyond in Cahir Iveraghig and the Reeks of Cork with warm sun in them,
and fine light in the sky. (Bending towards her.) And light's a grand
thing for a man ever was blind, or a woman, with a fine neck, and a skin
on her the like of you, the way we'd have a right to go off this day
till we'd have a fine life passing abroad through them towns of the
south, and we telling stories, maybe, or singing songs at the fairs.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [turning round half amused, and looking him over from
head to foot.] -- Well, isn't it a queer thing when your own wife's
after leaving you because you're a pitiful show, you'd talk the like of
that to me?

MARTIN DOUL -- [drawing back a little, hurt, but indignant.] -- It's
a queer thing, maybe, for all things is queer in the world. (In a low
voice with peculiar emphasis.) But there's one thing I'm telling you,
if she walked off away from me, it wasn't because of seeing me, and I no
more than I am, but because I was looking on her with my two eyes, and
she getting up, and eating her food, and combing her hair, and lying
down for her sleep.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [interested, off her guard.] -- Wouldn't any married man
you'd have be doing the like of that?

MARTIN DOUL -- [seizing the moment that he has her attention.] -- I'm
thinking by the mercy of God it's few sees anything but them is blind
for a space (with excitement.) It's a few sees the old woman rotting for
the grave, and it's few sees the like of yourself. (He bends over her.)
Though it's shining you are, like a high lamp would drag in the ships
out of the sea.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [shrinking away from him.] -- Keep off from me, Martin
Doul.

MARTIN DOUL -- [quickly, with low, furious intensity.] -- It's the truth
I'm telling you. (He puts his hand on her shoulder and shakes her.) And
you'd do right not to marry a man is after looking out a long while on
the bad days of the world; for what way would the like of him have fit
eyes to look on yourself, when you rise up in the morning and come out
of the little door yo