The Irishman flushed; it was _touch?_
for Yolara!
"Fear not for me with Lugur," he said, grimly. "Rather fear for him!"
The laughter died; she looked at him searchingly; a little enigmatic
smile about her mouth--so sweet and so cruel.
"Well--we shall see," she murmured. "You say you battle in your
world. With what?"
"Oh, with this and with that," answered Larry, airily. "We manage--"
"Have you the Keth--I mean that with which I sent Songar into the
nothingness?" she asked swiftly.
"See what she's driving at?" O'Keefe spoke to me, swiftly. "Well I do!
But here's where the O'Keefe lands.
"I said," he turned to her, "O voice of silver fire, that your spirit
is high even as your beauty--and searches out men's souls as does your
loveliness their hearts. And now listen, Yolara, for what I speak is
truth"--into his eyes came the far-away gaze; into his voice the Irish
softness--"Lo, in my land of Ireland, this many of your life's length
agone--see"--he raised his ten fingers, clenched and unclenched them
times twenty--"the mighty men of my race, the Taitha-da-Dainn, could
send men out into the nothingness even as do you with the Keth.
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