Wood resounded from below. Kevin Chen, Martin’s father, was equally stately, his dark brown eyes bright with the fire of extreme intelligence. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful. ’ ‘She again?’ enquired his hostess, her delicate brows rising ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance.
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