42
The Tracks We Tread
the track up which there is no returning. And only the man who has been there knows what it means to see his equal above him.
He stood up stiff with the hardness back on his face. He called Ormond “Sir” in a sudden defiance, and went out to the night with his shoulders bowed under the old weight. Father Denis drew at his pipe in a long silence. Ormond said blankly:
“What scared him?”
“Himsilf—an’ you.” The priest’s eyes fell on the length and breadth of the other man. “He’ll hate ye wan ov these days—or love ye. Bhut I’ll never git hould of him. A man who has fed wid the beasts ov the shtable will not come back tu the banquetin’-hall. For why? Because it wud be tu ‘come back.’”
