] -- He's no sense, surely,
and he'll be having himself driven off this day from where he's
good sleeping, and feeding, and wages for his work.
MOLLY BYRNE -- [as before.] -- He's a bigger fool than that,
Timmy. Look on him now, and tell me if that isn't a grand fellow
to think he's only to open his mouth to have a fine woman, the
like of me, running along by his heels.
[Martin Doul recoils towards centre, with his hand to his eyes;
Mary Doul is seen on left coming forward softly.]
TIMMY -- [with blank amazement.] -- Oh, the blind is wicked
people, and it's no lie. But he'll walk off this day and not be
troubling us more.
[Turns back left and picks up Martin Doul's coat and stick; some
things fall out of coat pocket, which he gathers up again.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [turns around, sees Mary Doul, whispers to Molly
Byrne with imploring agony.] -- Let you not put shame on me,
Molly, before herself and the smith. Let you not put shame on me
and I after saying fine words to you, and dreaming . . . dreams .
. . . in the night. (He hesitates, and looks round the sky.) Is
it a storm of thunder is coming, or the last end of the world?
(He staggers towards Mary Doul, tripping slightly over tin can.
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