Excerpt from The Rivals, Vol. 3 of 3: Tracy's Ambition
As I placed my foot in the stirrup, old Moan, in whose house I had passed the first fortnight after my wound, passed by our house, returning from work, with his spade upon his shoulder, and his aged brow pale and moist with the labour of the morning.
"I wish you joy, masther," he said, "that you're able to take the air o' the mornin again."
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