He had taken a pass degree, when he might have captured the highest honours.

He had interested people of place in the country, but he never used promptly the interest he excited.

A pretty face, a fishing or a shooting expedition, a carouse in some secluded tavern, were parts of his daily life.
At the time the story opens he was a figure of note among those who spent their time in criticizing the government and damning the Irish Parliament.

He even became a friend of some young hare-brained rebels of the time; yet no one suspected him of anything except irresponsibility.
His record was clean; Dublin Castle was not after him.
When his young friend made the remark about the sessions and assizes, Calhoun was making his way up the rocky hillside to take the homeward path to his father's place, Playmore.

With the challenge and the monstrous good-bye, a stone came flying up the hill after him and stopped almost at his feet.