Chapter 15

'Why the shovel and tongs

To each other belongs,

And the kettle sings songs

Full of family glee,

While alone with your cup,

Like a hermit you sup,

Och hone, Widow Machree.'

Samuel Lover.

Francesca and I were gloomy enough, as we drove along facing each other in Ballyfuchsia's one 'inside-car'-a strange and fearsome vehicle,