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"You mean to tell the jury then that you don't know what you meant when you said the thing had been talked over; do you?" "Why, I s'pose it was this thing about Captain Ussher. Weren't we talking of that then?" "That's for you to say. Was it Captain Ussher's death that had been talked over?" "Witness, don't answer that question," said Mr. O'Malley.
It was infuriating, but there just was nothing that could be done about it. Stan watched O'Malley as he roared after a Jerry. "Come back, Irisher. They're just tricking you out of gas," he called. "The spalpeens!" O'Malley roared, but he zoomed up and over, then tailed in after Red Flight which was heading for home. Stan saw the Me's dive down to overtake and attack the Forts and Libs.
While he spoke thus, he approached the place where I was standing, when, suddenly checking himself, he looked at me for a moment somewhat sternly. "Why not in uniform, sir?" "Your Royal Highness, I am not in the army." "Not in the army not in the army? And why, may I beg to know, have you But I'm speaking to Captain O'Malley, if I mistake not?"
The offer of the cabin, meanwhile, remained open. In the solitude that O'Malley found necessary that evening he toyed with it, though knowing that he would never really accept. Like a true Celt his imagination took the main body of Stahl's words and ensouled them with his own vivid temperament.
"True, I forgot; why is he not in uniform?" "Because, unfortunately, my Lord, we don't own him; he's not in the army." "Ha! ha! thought he was." "You dance, O'Malley, I suppose? I'm sure you'd rather be over there than hearing all my protestations of gratitude, sincere and heartfelt as they really are." "Lechmere, introduce my friend, Mr. O'Malley; get him a partner."
Such a thing had not happened since the basketball trouble the previous year. "Eleanor started that paper, whatever it is," said Nora O'Malley to the Phi Sigma Tau, who stood in a group around her desk. "She was here when I came in this morning, and I was early, too. It is some masterpiece of mischief on her part, or she wouldn't take the trouble to get here on time."
O'Malley went off next and was in the air almost at once. Stan kicked his throttle open and roared after his pals. The Mustang hopped off as though she weighed only a few pounds instead of three tons or more. The three P-51's slipped into close formation and headed out across the channel.
The latter, recruited by vessels hired from the Gael and Galls of Cantire, the Arran Isles, and Man, were under the command of MacScellig; the Connaught fleet was led by O'Malley and O'Dowda. The engagement, which lasted from the morning till the evening, ended in the repulse of the Connaught fleet, and the death of O'Dowda.
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