human
Mr. O'Neill, your daughter doesn't want your fortune, and as for myself, you and your money are no more to me than an old hen sitting on a nest of addled eggs. Give it to the lady at the back of your chair--she has earned it, apparently.
gpt
Really, said the Bishop, who had at length recovered from Father Dan's onslaught.
human
Really, Sir What-ever-your-name is, this is too outrageous--that you should come to this lonely house at this time of night, interrupting most urgent business, not to speak of serious offices, and make injurious insinuations against the character of a respectable person--you, sir, who had the audacity to return openly to the island with the partner of your sin, and to lodge her in the house of your own mother--your own mother, sir, though Heaven knows what kind of mother it can be who harbours her son's sin-laden mistress, his woman, as our sick friend says. . . .
gpt
Monsignor, I don't think I should advise you to say that again.
human
Why not, sir?
gpt
Because I have a deep respect for your cloth and should be sorry to see it soiled.
human
Violence! cried the Bishop, rising to his feet.
gpt
You threaten me with violence? . . . Is there no policeman in this parish, Mr. Curphy?
human
There's one at the corner of the road, Bishop, I said.
gpt
I brought him along with me. I should have brought the High Bailiff too, if there had been time. You would perhaps be no worse for a few witnesses to the business that seems to be going on here.