u at all hard hit?

DOYLE. Not really. I had only two ideas at that time, first, to
learn to do something; and then to get out of Ireland and have a
chance of doing it. She didn't count. I was romantic about her,
just as I was romantic about Byron's heroines or the old Round
Tower of Rosscullen; but she didn't count any more than they did.
I've never crossed St George's Channel since for her sake--never
even landed at Queenstown and come back to London through
Ireland.

BROADBENT. But did you ever say anything that would justify her
in waiting for you?

DOYLE. No, never. But she IS waiting for me.

BROADBENT. How do you know?

DOYLE. She writes to me--on her birthday. She used to write on
mine, and send me little things as presents; but I stopped that
by pretending that it was no use when I was travelling, as they
got lost in the foreign post-offices. [He pronounces post-offices
with the stress on offices, instead of on post].

BROADBENT. You answer the letters?

DOYLE. Not very punctually. But they get acknowledged at one time
or another.

BROADBENT. How do you feel when you see her handwriting?

DOYLE. Uneasy. I'd give 50 pounds to escape a letter.

BROADBENT [looking grave, and throwing himself back in his chair
to intimate that the cross-examination is over, and the result
very damaging to the witness] Hm!

DOYLE. What d'ye mean by Hm!?

BROADBENT. Of course I know that the moral code is different in
Ireland. But in England it's not considered fair to trifle with a
woman's affections.

DOYLE. You mean that an Englishman would get engaged to another
woman and return Nora her letters and presents with a letter to
say he was unworthy of her and wished her every happiness?

BROADBENT. Well, even that would set the poor girl's mind at
rest.

DOYLE. Would it? I wonder! One thing I can tell you; and that is
that Nora would wait until she died of old age sooner than ask my
intentions or condescend to hint at the possibility of my having
any. You don't know what Irish pride is. England may have knocked
a good deal of it out of me; but she's never been in England; and
if I had to choose between wounding that delicacy in her and
hitting her in the face, I'd hit her in the face without a
moment's hesitation.

BROADBENT [who has been nursing his knee and reflecting,
apparently rather agreeably]. You know, all this sounds rather
interesting. There's the Irish charm about it. That's the worst
of you: the I