The Playboy of the
MAHON.
Dark and dirty.
WIDOW QUIN, considering.
I'm thinking I seen him.
MAHON, eagerly.
An ugly young blackguard.
WIDOW QUIN.
A hideous, fearful villain, and the spit of you.
MAHON.
What way is he fled?
WIDOW QUIN.
Gone over the hills to catch a coasting steamer to the north or south.
MAHON.
Could I pull up on him now?
WIDOW QUIN.
If you'll cross the sands below where the tide is out, you'll be in it as soon as himself, for he had to go round ten miles by the top of the bay. (She points to the door.) Strike down by the head
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