‘Take no notice of me. I believe the feeling is that I am ga-ga. I believe that’s so.’

‘Oh, surely—’

‘Being ga-ga is seeing things differently when you’re old. How horrid this trifle is!’

She would give a shilling, the Bishop’s wife thought, to be able to go away and take off her stays. ‘Scarlatina,’ Villiers Hadnett said. ‘And trouble with a lung.’ Mr Camier again drained his glass and gave another laugh. It was odd, Lady Rossboyne mused, that the bridegroom should have reminded her of the original bridegroom’s uncle. Mrs Rolleston stood up.

In the drawing-room there was coffee, and then the men came in after they had sat over their port for half an hour. Lady Rossboyne and Mrs Rolleston talked about the past; mutual relatives were recalled. Mrs Camier attempted to draw out Lionel and did not succeed. While listening to Villiers Hadnett telling him about his lung, John James remembered the name of the carpentry instructor: Spokeshave Billimore. Finnamore supplied Mr Camier with the history of the Ganters, from Kanturk, who had briefly had a connection with the Rollestons. His partner, Harbinson, was to be his best man, he informed Mr Camier. The Harbinsons were originally of Mountmellick.

Mrs Camier, drawing out the Bishop, heard about ten minutes that had changed his life. Ten minutes in May 1894, a Tuesday morning. The bells of St Canice’s cathedral in Kilkenny had been ringing at the time, but Mrs Camier was never to discover why, because while the Bishop was explaining how he had grappled with a theological enigma during those particular ten minutes the evening was brought to an end. ‘Goodnight,’ Mrs Rolleston abruptly said, and taking from his waistcoat the watch Villana had liked to play with as a child, Finnamore noted that it was almost the time he had arranged for the ferryman to be at the pier. The double journey was to cost him a price he considered high: one and sixpence because of the lateness of the hour. He shook hands with the visitors; Villana accompanied him from the drawing-room.

‘Lady Rossboyne is very direct,’ she apologised on the avenue, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘She did not offend me.’

Villana took his arm. He was so very kind, coming to Carriglas when he might have insisted on remaining in his house, obliging her to live where she did not wish to live. The interest he took in Carriglas was a kindness also: she saw it as such.

‘But I fear I did not make much impression.’ He sighed. One way or another he had not enjoyed the evening. He had made no headway in his conversation with Mrs Camier; and her husband had finally interrupted him to say he had no interest in genealogy. ‘They found me dull and much too old for you.’

‘It does not matter what they found you. That is of no importance.’