then they sang the second verse of the tantum ergo and canon o'hanlon got up again and censed the blessed sacrament and knelt down and he told father conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire to the flowers and father conroy got up and settled it all right and she could see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and she swung her leg more in and out in time. it was getting darker but he could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands back into his pockets. she felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over her and she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against her stays that that thing must be coming on because the last time too was when she clipped her hair on account of the moon. his dark eyes fixed themselves on her again drinking in her every contour, literally worshipping at her shrine. if ever there was undisguised admiration in a man's passionate gaze it was there plain to be seen on that man's face. it is for you, gertrude macdowell, and you know it.
edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and gerty noticed that that little hint she gave had the desired effect because it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place to push up the pushcar and cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make herself attractive of course and canon o'hanlon stood up with his cope poking up at his neck and father conroy handed him the card to read off and he read out panem de clo prstitisti eis and edy and cissy were talking about the time all the time and asking her but gerty could pay them back in their own coin and she just answered with scathing politeness when edy asked her was she heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over. gerty winced sharply. a brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. it hurt. o yes, it cut deep because edy had her own quiet way of saying things like that she knew would wound like the confounded little cat she was. gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she fought back the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless, so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. she had loved him better than he knew. lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.