"
"Mebbe he is Irish way back. It's just what an Irishman would say--a
RALE Irishman."
"There's no nationality in character or art, or sport or letthers or
music. They're all of one great commonwealth. They're all one
brotherhood, whether they're white or yellow or red or black.
There's no nationality about them. The wurrld wants the best, an'
they don't care what colour the best man is, so long as he's GREAT."
O'Connell listened amazed.
"An' where might ye have heard that?"
"Jerry towld me. An' it's thrue. I believe it."
They talked far into the night.
He unfolded his plans.
If his book was a success and he made some little money out of it,
they would go back to Ireland and live out their lives there. And it
was going to be a wonderful Ireland, too, with the best of the old
and ceaseless energy of the new.
An Ireland worth living in.
They would make their home there again, and this time they would not
leave it.
"But some day we might go to England, father, eh?"
"What for?"
"Just to see it, father."
"I was only there once. It was there yer mother an' me were married.
It was there she gave her life into me care."
He became suddenly silent, and the light of memory shone in his
eyes, and the sigh of heart-ache broke through his lips.
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