Moreover it was necessary to take quick measures. I started up from my chair, hastily re-counting Jem Bottles's five guineas.
But I bethought me of Lady Mary. She could hardly be my good fairy. She was rather too plump to be a fairy. She was not extremely plump, but when she walked something moved within her skirts. For my part I think little of fairies, who remind me of roasted fowl's wing. Give me the less brittle beauty which is not likely to break in a man's arms.
After all, I reflected, Mickey Clancy could take care quite well of that estate at Glandore; and, if he did n't, Father Donovan would soon bring him to trouble; and, if Father Donovan could n't, why, the place was worth very little any how. Besides, 't is a very weak man who cannot throw an estate into the air for a pair of bright eyes.
Aye, and Lady Mary's bright eyes! That was one matter. And there was Forister's bright sword. That was another matter. But to my descendants I declare that my hesitation did not endure an instant. Forister might have an arm so supple and a sword so long that he might be able to touch the nape of his neck with his own point, but I was firm on English soil. I would meet him even if he were a chevaux de frise. Little it mattered to me. He might swing the ten arms of an Indian god; he might yell like a gale at sea; he might be more terrible in appearance than a volcano in its passions; still I would meet him.
There was a knock, and at my bidding a servant approached and said: "A gentleman, Mr. Forister, wishes to see you, sir."
For a moment I was privately in a panic. Should
