"You're not to be doing that, you know! You're not! You're not! I see through you like a pane of glass.

Sometimes you forget yourself and get natural, like you did in the _cafe_ this time back; then, all of a sudden, some imp of suspicion shakes his tail at you and says, 'Look here, young man, put that Irishman in his place! Keep him at a respectable arm's length!' Now, isn't that gospel truth ?" The boy laughed, vanquished.

"Monsieur," he said, naively, "I will not do it again." "That's right! You see, I'm not interesting or picturesque enough to suspect.

When all's said and done, I'm just a poor devil of an Irishman with enough imagination to prevent his doing any particular harm in this world, and enough money to prevent his doing any special good.

My name is Edward Fitzgerald Blake, and I have an old barracks of a castle in County Clare.