BROADBENT. Yes. I--I--I--I--[stammering with fury] I should have
shot the confounded landlord, and wrung the neck of the damned
agent, and blown the farm up with dynamite, and Dublin Castle
along with it.

LARRY. Oh yes: you'd have done great things; and a fat lot of
good you'd have got out of it, too! That's an Englishman all
over! make bad laws and give away all the land, and then, when
your economic incompetence produces its natural and inevitable
results, get virtuously indignant and kill the people that carry
out your laws.

AUNT JUDY. Sure never mind him, Mr Broadbent. It doesn't matter,
anyhow, because there's harly any landlords left; and ther'll
soon be none at all.

LARRY. On the contrary, ther'll soon be nothing else; and the
Lord help Ireland then!

AUNT JUDY. Ah, you're never satisfied, Larry. [To Nora] Come on,
alanna, an make the paste for the pie. We can leave them to their
talk. They don't want us [she takes up the tray and goes into the
house].

BROADBENT [rising and gallantly protesting] Oh, Miss Doyle!
Really, really--

Nora, following Aunt Judy with the rolled-up cloth in her hands,
looks at him and strikes him dumb. He watches her until she
disappears; then comes to Larry and addresses him with sudden