The Playboy of the
the edge of it on the ridge of his skull, and he went down at my feet like an empty sack, and never let a grunt or groan from him at all.
MICHAEL, making a sign to Pegeen to fill Christy's glass.
And what way weren't you hanged, mister? Did you bury him then?
CHRISTY, considering.
Aye. I buried him then. Wasn't I digging spuds in the field?
MICHAEL.
And the peelers never followed after you the eleven days that you're out?
CHRISTY, shaking his head.
Never a one of them, and I walking forward facing hog, dog, or divil on the highway of the road.
PHILLY, nodding wisely.
It's only with a common week-day kind of a murderer them lads would be trusting their carcase, and that man should be a great terror when his temper's roused.
22
