"My epic," said Emily, diligently devouring plum cake, "is about a very beautiful high-born girl who was stolen away from her real parents when she was a baby and brought up in a woodcutter’s hut."
"One av the seven original plots in the world," murmured Father Cassidy.
"Nothing. Just a bad habit av thinking aloud. Go on."
"She had a lover of high degree but his family did not want him to marry her because she was only a woodcutter’s daughter—"
"Another of the seven plots—excuse me."
"—so they sent him away to the Holy Land on a crusade and word came back that he was killed and then Editha—her name was Editha—went into a convent—"
Emily paused for a bite of plum cake and Father Cassidy took up the strain.
"And now her lover comes back very much alive, though covered with Paynim scars, and the secret av her birth is discovered through the dying confession av the old nurse and the birthmark on her arm."
"How did you know?" gasped Emily in amazement."