Romance was his deadly foe; it made him do a stupid, if chivalrous, thing.

Meanwhile he would warn the government at once about the projected French naval raid.
"Michael," said Dyck, rising again, "see my father, but you're not to say I didn't kill Boyne, for, to tell the truth, I don't know.

My head"-- he put his hand to it with a gesture of despair--"my head's a mass of contradictions.

It seems a thousand years since I entered that tavern! I can't get myself level with all that's happened.

That Erris Boyne should be the father of the sweet girl at Limerick shakes me.