A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. I just wanted a breath of air. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. I was curious about that. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. All who lived there aspired to be something greater, all who lived there had hope, even the slaves! Oh, Lucia, if you could have seen the Parthenon, or attended the plays at the Athaneum, you would know why I loved it there. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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