The interior of O’Keefe’s was warm with a pleasant buzz of conversation which cut dead as I closed the door behind me. I looked around and walked ...o the bar.Still silence.The barman looked at me, possibly scowled but I’d no idea what his normal expression was at that time. When I did know it wasn’t much better.“Guiness,” I said. Well, when in Rome, Dublin actually, but let’s not split hairs, I mean, shit, I was nervous enough with out arguing about bloody silly things.“And umm ... is Mary Kelly. DeSilva, ... Katherine ... I wanted to talk to you ... about Rose." Yes," she said, expressionless."You see, I'm in love with your daughter and I want to marry her." I'd pretty much nervously blurted this out."What makes you think you're a suitable husband for my daughter?" Again, with the deadpan delivery.Now that question I hadn't anticipated."Well, I have a good job, a nice place to live, and ... and ... I love Rose." Your job is driving a bus, the place you live is at the discretion of. More

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