The servants understand," and with that he went straightway back into the house.
* * * * * The biographer of Dermod Eustace would need to bring a wary mind to his work.

For though the old master of Lennon House has not lain twenty years in his grave, he is already swollen into a legendary character.
Anecdotes have grown upon his memory like barnacles, and any man in those parts with a knack of invention has only to foist his stories upon Dermod to ensure a ready credence.

There are, however, definite facts.
He practised an ancient and tyrannous hospitality, keeping open house upon the road to Letterkenny, and forcing bed and board even upon strangers, as Durrance had once discovered.

He was a man of another century, who looked out with a glowering, angry eye upon a topsy-turvy world, and would not be reconciled to it except after much alcohol.

He was a sort of intoxicated Coriolanus, believing that the people should be shepherded with a stick, yet always mindful of his manners, even to the lowliest of women.