He cast occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for the sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately learned.

Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was getting rather out of his depth in his 'own dear tongue.' At last the tobacconist said with a smile: 'I'm afraid we must ask Mr.Conneally--didn't you say that Conneally was your name ?--to speak the Beurla.

I'm clean beaten with the Gaelic, and you can't go much further yourself, Cahal.

Isn't that the truth, now.' 'And small blame to me,' said Cahal--in English, Charles--Maguire.
'After all, what am I but a learner?
And it's clear that Mr.Conneally has spoken it since ever he spoke at all.' Hyacinth smiled and nodded.

Maguire went on: 'What are you doing this afternoon?
What do you say to coming round with me to see Mary O'Dwyer?
It's her "at home" day, and I'm just on my way there.' 'But,' said Hyacinth, 'I don't know her.