CHRISTY, interested.
You're like me, so.
WIDOW QUIN.
I am your like, and it's for that I'm taking a fancy to you, and I with my little houseen above where there'd be myself to tend you, and none to ask were you a murderer or what at all.
CHRISTY.
And what would I be doing if I left Pegeen?
WIDOW QUIN.
I've nice jobs you could be doing—gathering shells to make a white-wash for our hut within, building up a little goose-house, or stretching a new skin on an old curragh I have; and if my hut is far from all sides, it's there you'll meet the wisest old men, I tell you, at the corner of my wheel, and it's there yourself and me will have great times whispering and hugging. . . .
VOICES, outside, calling far away.
Christy! Christy Mahon! Christy!
CHRISTY.
Is it Pegeen Mike?
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