_Mary Cahel:_ There was no other thing for us to do but to come and to give him a warning. What way would he be facing the neighbours, and he to come back to Daire-caol?
_Mary Cushin:_ It is likely they will let him go free, Mary, before many days will be out. What call have they to be keeping him? It is certain they promised him his life.
_Mary Cahel:_ If they promised him his life, Mary Cushin, he must live it in some other place. Let him never see Daire-caol again, or Daroda or Druimdarod.
_Mary Cushin:_ O, Mary, what place will we bring him to, and we driven from the place that we know? What person that is sent among strangers can have one day's comfort on earth?
_Mary Cahel:_ It is only among strangers, I am thinking, he could be hiding his story at all. It is best for him to go to America, where the people are as thick as grass.
_Mary Cushin:_ What way could he go to America and he having no means in his hand? There's himself and myself to make the voyage and the little one-een at home.
_Mary Cahel:_ I would sooner to sell the holding than to ask for the price paid for blood. There'll be money enough for the two of you to settle your debts and to go.
_Mary Cushin:_ And what would yourself be doing and we to go over the sea? It is not among the neighbours you would wish to be ending your days.
_Mary Cahel:_ I am thinking there is no one would know me in the workhouse at Oughterard. I wonder could I go in there, and I not to give them my name?
_Mary Cushin:_ Ah, don't be talking foolishness. What way could I bring the child? Sure he's hardly out of the cradle; he'd be lost out there in the States.
_Mary Cahel:_ I could bring him into the workhouse, I to give him some other name. You could send for him when you'd be settled or have some place of your own.
_Mary Cushin:_ It is very cold at the dawn. It is time for them open the door. I wish I had brought a potato or a bit of a cake or of bread.
_Mary Cahel:_ I'm in dread of it being opened and not knowing what will we hear. The night that Denis was taken he had a great cold and a cough.
_Mary Cushin:_ I think I hear some person coming. There's a sound like the rattling of keys. God and His Mother protect us! I'm in dread of being found here at all!