Cluhir said that it was a very nice engagement, and a great match; there were not wanting those who said also that it was wonderful promotion for that Tishy Mangan.  A tactless ex-charwoman had even referred to young Mr. Coppinger as being Miss Mangan’s “up-raiser,” and having enquired, with incredulity, of Mrs. Mangan ("and this before a crowd in Egan’s shop, if you please!” as Mrs. Mangan reported) “Ma’am! are they in bonds?” she had so fervently thanked God on hearing that such was the case, that Mrs. Mangan said she could never enter Egan’s again without she’d feel they were all laughing at her!

Of the fiance and of his frame of mind, what shall be said?  He, at all events, said as little to himself as was possible, but, in the circumstances, it was no more than could be expected that a lively fancy would not wholly be denied, and that occasional vagrant visions would present themselves uninvited.  He pictured to himself a meeting with Christian, all in the clouds, of course; he told himself he had no wish to meet her, nor, if he did, was he at all likely to discuss the matter with her; still he thought that he would rather enjoy telling her that he had acknowledged his engagement with Tishy, to Tishy’s father, in the very same words in which she, Christian, had broken hers with him.  They had somehow stuck in his head.  He would tell her that.  He had certainly been rather screwed (but that there would be no necessity to mention); it was just a curious chance that he should have used them.  He dramatised the interview in his mind.  It would serve Christian right; it would be a rather jolly instance of retributive justice—­only he wished that the Christian whom he visualised was not always that shadowed, ethereal Christian whom he had painted, with, as Rossetti said, the wonder not yet quite gone from that still look of hers.  Bother Rossetti, anyway!  What did it matter what he said?  The main point was what Larry himself had said, and the result was that he was engaged to Tishy Mangan, solidly and seriously.

There was nothing fatiguingly ethereal about Tishy anyhow; she was just about as good-looking a girl as he had ever met in his life.  He would take her to Paris some day, and would see what his pals would say to her.  He thought there wouldn’t be two opinions about her there.  He and she would travel about a bit.  He didn’t feel as if he would care about settling down at Coppinger’s Court at once.  Anyhow he would have to fix up about Aunt Freddy.  She hadn’t written him much of a letter about his engagement; she seemed to like it just about as well as she had liked his excursion into politics.

“Of course Tishy’s a Papist!” he thought, mockingly, accounting to himself for the chill of the congratulations.  “That’s enough for Aunt Freddy!  But, hang it all, so am I!  She ought to see how suitable it is!  I’d like to lay on Father Greer to talk to her!”