y and enthusiastic, to
explore the valley by moonlight.

The Round Tower stands about half an Irish mile from Rosscullen,
some fifty yards south of the road on a knoll with a circle of
wild greensward on it. The road once ran over this knoll; but
modern engineering has tempered the level to the Beeyankiny car
by carrying the road partly round the knoll and partly through a
cutting; so that the way from the road to the tower is a footpath
up the embankment through furze and brambles.

On the edge of this slope, at the top of the path, Nora is
straining her eyes in the moonlight, watching for Larry. At last
she gives it up with a sob of impatience, and retreats to the
hoary foot of the tower, where she sits down discouraged and
cries a little. Then she settles herself resignedly to wait, and
hums a song--not an Irish melody, but a hackneyed English
drawing-room ballad of the season before last--until some slight
noise suggests a footstep, when she springs up eagerly and runs
to the edge of the slope again. Some moments of silence and suspense
follow, broken by unmistakable footsteps. She gives a little gasp as
she sees a man approaching.

NORA. Is that you, Larry? [Frightened a little] Who's that?

[BROADBENT's voice from below on the path]. Don't be alarmed.

NORA. Oh, what an English accent you've got!

BROADBENT [rising into view] I must introduce myself--

NORA [violently startled, retreating]. It's not you! Who are you?
What do you want?

BROADBENT [advancing]. I'm really so sorry to have alarmed you,
Miss Reilly. My name is Broadbent. Larry's friend, you know.

NORA [chilled]. And has Mr Doyle not come with you?

BROADBENT. No. I've come instead. I hope I am not unwelcome.

NORA [deeply mortified]. I'm sorry Mr Doyle should have given you
the trouble, I'm sure.

BROADBENT. You see, as a stranger and an Englishman, I thought it
would be interesting to see the Round Tower by moonlight.

NORA. Oh, you came to see the tower. I thought--[confused, trying
to recover her manners] Oh, of course. I was so startled--It's a
beautiful night, isn't it?

BROADBENT. Lovely. I must explain why Larry has not come himself.

NORA. Why should he come? He's seen the tower often enough: it's
no attraction to him. [Genteelly] An what do you think of
Ireland, Mr Broadbent? Have you ever been here before?

BROADBENT. Never.

NORA. An how do you like it?

BROADBENT [suddenly betraying a condition of extreme
sentiment