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sympathetic.

“I would like to marry him,” she said hesitantly, “but I am not ready to marry him now.”

“But you say you love him?”

“He is a good man.”

“Is that enough?”

“I love him.”

“But you are not sure?”

She sighed and said nothing.

“Are you sorry for what you did with him?”

“Yes, Father.”

“For your penance I want you to say just one Hail Mary, but say it slowly and think about the words, and you must promise to come back in one month. If you are pregnant, we will have to talk again, and we will help you in every way we can.”

When she got back to Mrs. Kehoe’s she discovered that a lock had been put on the basement gate and she had to let herself in by the main door. Mrs. Kehoe was in the kitchen with Miss McAdam, who had decided that she was not going to the dance.

“I’m going to keep the basement locked in future,” Mrs. Kehoe said as though speaking to Miss McAdam alone. “You wouldn’t know who would be going down there.”

“You are very wise,” Miss McAdam said.

As Eilis made her supper, Mrs. Kehoe and Miss McAdam treated her as though she were a ghost.

Eilis’s mother wrote and mentioned how lonely she was and how long the day was and how hard the night. She said that neighbours looked in on her all the time and people called after tea but she had run out of things to say to them. Eilis wrote to her a number of times; she told her mother all the news about the summer styles in Bartocci’s and other stores on Fulton Street and about preparing for her exams, which would come in May, saying she was studying hard because if she passed she would be a qualified bookkeeper.

She never mentioned Tony in any of her letters home and she wondered if, by now, her mother, in clearing out Rose’s room or in receiving what was in her desk at the office, had found and read her letters to Rose. She saw Tony every day, sometimes merely meeting him outside the college and travelling with him on the trolley-car and letting him walk her as far as Mrs. Kehoe’s. Since the night he had spent in her room everything was different between them. She felt that he was more relaxed, more willing to be silent and not trying to impress her so much or make jokes. And every time she saw him waiting for her, she felt that they had become closer. Every time they kissed, or even brushed against each other as they walked along the street, she was reminded of that night they had been together.

Once she discovered that she was not pregnant, she thought of the night with pleasure, especially after she had returned to the priest, who somehow managed to imply that what had happened between her and Tony was not hard to understand, despite the fact that it was wrong, and was maybe a sign from God that they should consider getting married and raising a family. He seemed so easy to talk to the second time that she was tempted to tell him the whole story and ask him what she should do about her mother, whose letters to her were increasingly sad, the handwriting at times wandering strangely across the page, almost illegible, but she left the confession box without saying anything more.

One Sunday after mass, as she was walking out of the church with Sheila Heffernan, Eilis noticed that Father Flood, who often stood in front of the church after mass greeting his parishioners, had averted his eyes and moved into the shadows when they approached and was soon speaking to a number of women with immense concentration. She waited behind only to find that the priest, having spotted her, turned his back and walked away from her quickly. It occurred to her immediately that Mrs. Kehoe had spoken to him and that she should go to see him as soon as possible before he did something unthinkable such as write to her mother about her, although she had no idea what she would say to him.

Thus after lunch with Tony and his family, she made an arrangement to see Tony later, but said that she had to go now and study. She refused to allow him to come on the subway with her. She went straight from the subway station to Father Flood’s house.

It was only when she was sitting in the front parlour