Outside, the Temperance League is singing its hymns of judgy protest as Neri is hauled into a car and press photographers take his picture ("What a scoop!" they say. Probably.) The drunken Irish kings and kingmakers stumble out into the cold, greeted by this awful song and the assaultive camera flashes. "Go home to your families!" one of the Temperance busybodies shouts. "Bugger off, you harridans!" shouts one of the Irish. Nucky turns to the gathered women and spots Margaret on the front line. She doesn't exactly look regretful. After Neri is carted away and the Temperance harridans disperse, Eli stumbles up to Nucky in order to somehow put this turn of events on his brother's shoulders. "I'm sure you made quite an impression on your Republican friends." Nucky tells him to go home to his wife. Eli says he will ... "Where are you goin'." Eli then winds up and takes the drunkest, slowest, most off-target swing at someone I've ever seen. The "punch" misses Nucky by a mile, though the sentiment at least must swing. "The fuck was that for?!" Nucky exclaims, as Eli is led away. In his festive little skirt.
As "Nights in Ballygran" plays again, we get a montage of sad desperation worthy of a glum Irish ballad. Jimmy visits that opium den in Chinatown that Pearl kept going on about. Angela walks the Boardwalk alone, winding up at the door to the photographer's shop, certainly looking like she's awfully fond of whoever's opening the door there for her. Eli in fact has gone home to his wife, who rubs his back while he pukes into the toilet. Gillian inspects her flawless but inevitably aging face in the mirror. The Feds destroy the barrels of green beer.
And Margaret Schroeder lies awake in her bed, restless from the day's events. In truth, she did a lot of running around before she ultimately shoved a knife in Nucky's back. And here Nucky is now, knocking on her door in the middle of the night. She lets him in, so clearly she's not worried about him being angry at her, despite her not-so-rosy history with angry men. But her faith proves warranted. He simply tells her he has no time for games -- and as she notices, he calls her "Margaret" and not "Mrs. Schroeder." That kind of familiarity can only mean one thing: it's kissin' time! Like, serious, up against the wall, hands under the nightgown kind of kissing. I guess Nucky figured the cold-shoulder approach was getting him nowhere. I guess we'll see what taking the path of unbridled passion brings him.