Aren't you satisfied?"
Burke's face was grim as if hewn out of rock. "Not yet," he said.
"You've told me the truth--what you know of it. But there's more
to it. I've got to know--everything before I'm satisfied."
"Ah, but sure!" protested Kelly. "Women are very queer, you know.
Ye can't tell what moves a woman. Often as not, it's something
quite different from what you'd think."
Burke was silent, continuing his breakfast.
Kelly looked at him with eyes of pathetic persuasion. "I've been
lambastin' meself all night," he burst forth suddenly, "for ever
bringing ye out on such a chase. It was foul work. I see it now.
She'd have come back to ye, Burke lad. She didn't mean any harm.
Sure, she's as pure as the stars."
Burke's grey eyes, keen as the morning light, looked suddenly
straight at him. Almost under his breath, Burke spoke. "Don't
tell me--that!" he said. "Just keep Guy out of my way! That's
all."
Kelly sighed aloud. "And Guy'll go to perdition faster than if the
devil had kicked him. He's on his way already."
"Let him go!" said Burke.
It was his last word on the subject. Having spoken it, he gave his
attention to the meal before him, and concluded it with a
deliberate disregard for Kelly's depressed countenance that an
onlooker might have found somewhat brutal.
"What are you going to do?" asked Kelly meekly, as at length he
pushed back his chair.
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