Everyman's Land

were only three line

rest of your party have gone to bed. I'

ds must, when the devil drives!-if you're in the power of the devil. I was. And, alas! through my fault, so was Brian

At the table, in the centre of the room, sat Mr. Julian O'Farrell, alias Giulio di Napoli, conspicuously interested in an illustrated paper. He jumped up at sight of me, and smiled a brilliant smile of welcome, but did not speak. A sudden, obstinate determin

stately clock on the mantel ticked out second after second, I felt nervously inclined to laugh, despite the seriousness of my situation. I bit my l

t. I looked up involuntarily, and met the dark Italian eyes sparkling with fun. "I beg your pardon!" the man gur

e," I replied, without a smile

'm a lazy fellow, and I'm so tired of standing! Now, don't begin by being cross with me because I call you 'dear.'

I hedged. But I sat down, and he sank so heavily into an ancient,

r lines will be cast in the same places for some time to come-if you're as wise as-as you are pretty. If not, I'm afraid you and Mr. O'Malley won't be long wi

est is very

be my similes are a bit mixed, but you'll excuse that, as we're both Irish. Why, my being Irish-and Italian-is an explanation of me in itself, if you'd

threw

it will be your fault-because you're not reasonable. You're the pot and I'm the kettle, because we're both tarred with the same brush. By the way, are pots and kettles blacked with tar? T

cussion," I said. "He's too far above it-and u

came in, and where it still holds good. When I read the news of Pa an

supplied t

which should draw us together, the same great idea must have occurred to you-in the same way, a

l, you're a B

Dierdre's a Sinn Feiner. You needn't expect mercy from her, unless I keep her down with a strong hand-the Hidden Hand. She hates you Northerners about ten times worse than she hates the Huns. Now you look as if you thought her name wasn't Dierdre! It is, because she

I said, "for I understand you no

ke to call it. I was a conscientious objector: that is, my conviction was it would be sinful to risk a bullet in a chest full of music, like mine-a treasure-chest. But the fools didn't see it in that light. They made America too hot to hold either Giulio di Napoli or Julian O'Farrell. I'm no coward-I swear to you I'm not, my dear girl! You've only to look me square in the face to see I'm not. I'm full of fire. But ever since I was a boy I've lived for my voice, and you can't die for your voice, like you can for your country. It goes-pop!-with you. I managed to convince the doctors that my heart was too jumpy for the trenches. I see digitalis in your eye, Miss Trained Nurse! It wa

that touched me through my contempt. Watching, he saw this, and catching

nd so she is, these days. I'd been trying for six months' sick leave, and just got it when I read that stuff in the paper about Beckett being killed, and his parents hearing the news the day they arrived. It struck me like drama: things do. I was born dramatic-took it from my mother. The thought came to me, how dead easy 'twould be for some girl to pretend she'd been engaged to Beckett, and win her wily way to the hearts and pockets of the old birds. Next I thought: Why not Dierdre? And there wasn't any reason why not! I told her it would be good practice in acting. (She hasn't quite given up hope of the stage yet.) We started for Paris on the job; and then I read in a later copy of the same paper about the smart young lady who'd stepped in ahead of us. If old Beckett hadn't been bursting with pride in the heroic girl who'd got a medal for nursing infectious cases in a hospital near St. Raphael, I'd have given up the game for a bad job. I'd have taken it for granted that Jim and the fiancée had met before we met him at St. Raphael. But when the paper said they'd made acquaintance there, and gave your

on me?" I

she's good to her brother-as good as you are to yours, in h

t speak. Then I asked

ve and let live, that's all. Don't you try

our pitch?

ur word wouldn't stand against my proofs, if you put up a fight. You'd go down-and your brother with you. Oh, I don't think he's in it! The minute I saw his face I was sure he wasn't; and I guessed from yours th

d Mrs. Beckett made

give you leave to watch over their interests, if

nking furiously, when the landlord c

dy to go. We can leave the room free, ca

to the foot of the stairs, then turned at bay to deliver some ultimatum-I scarcely knew what. But O'Farrel