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 James Joyce

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Title: Dubliners

Author: James Joyce

Release Date: September, 2001 [EBook #2814]
Last Updated: April 1, 2016

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START  [..........] 
 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DUBLINERS ***




Produced  [..........] 
 David Reed, Karol Pietrzak, and David Widger

DUBLINERS

[..........] James Joyce

Contents

DUBLINERS

THE SISTERS

THERE was no hope [..........] him this time: it was the third stroke. Night [..........] night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square [..........] window: and night [..........] night I had found it lighted [..........] the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection [..........] candles [..........] the darkened blind [..........] I knew that two candles must be set [..........] the head [..........] a corpse. He had often said [..........] me: "I am not long [..........] this world," and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night [..........] I gazed [..........] [..........] the window I said softly [..........] myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely [..........] my ears, [..........] the word gnomon [..........] the Euclid and the word simony [..........] the Catechism. [..........] now it sounded [..........] me [..........] the name [..........] some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me [..........] fear, and yet I longed [..........] be nearer [..........] it and [..........] look upon its deadly work.

Old Cotter was sitting [..........] the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs [..........] supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, [..........] if returning [..........] some former remark [..........] his:

"No, I wouldn't say he was exactly ... [..........] there was something queer ... there was something uncanny [..........] him. I'll tell you my opinion...."

He began [..........] puff [..........] his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion [..........] his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used [..........] be rather interesting, talking [..........] faints and worms; [..........] I soon grew tired [..........] him and his endless stories [..........] the distillery.

"I have my own theory [..........] it," he said. "I think it was one [..........] those ... peculiar cases.... [..........] it's hard [..........] say...."

He began [..........] puff again [..........] his pipe without giving us his theory. My uncle saw me staring and said [..........] me:

"Well, so your old friend is gone, you'll be sorry [..........] hear."

"Who?" said I.

"Father Flynn."

"Is he dead?"

"Mr Cotter here has just told us. He was passing [..........] the house."

I knew that I was [..........] observation so I continued eating [..........] if the news had not interested me. My uncle explained [..........] old Cotter.

"The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish [..........] him."

"God have mercy [..........] his soul," said my aunt piously.

Old Cotter looked [..........] me [..........] a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me [..........] I would not satisfy him [..........] looking [..........] [..........] my plate. He returned [..........] his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate.

"I wouldn't [..........] children [..........] mine," he said, " [..........] have too much [..........] say [..........] a man [..........] that."

"How do you mean, Mr Cotter?" asked my aunt.

"What I mean is," said old Cotter, "it's bad [..........] children. My idea is: let a young lad run [..........] and play [..........] young lads [..........] his own age and not be.... Am I right, Jack?"

"That's my principle, too," said my uncle. "Let him learn [..........] box his corner. That's what I'm always saying [..........] that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning [..........] my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that's what stands [..........] me now. Education is all very fine and large.... Mr Cotter might take a pick [..........] that leg mutton," he added [..........] my aunt.

"No, no, not [..........] me," said old Cotter.

My aunt brought the dish [..........] the safe and put it [..........] the table.

" [..........] why do you think it's not good [..........] children, Mr Cotter?" she asked.

"It's bad [..........] children," said old Cotter, "because their minds are so impressionable. When children see things [..........] that, you know, it has an effect...."

I crammed my mouth [..........] stirabout [..........] fear I might give utterance [..........] my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile!

It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry [..........] old Cotter [..........] alluding [..........] me [..........] a child, I puzzled my head [..........] extract meaning [..........] his unfinished sentences. [..........] the dark [..........] my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face [..........] the paralytic. I drew the blankets [..........] my head and tried [..........] think [..........] Christmas. [..........] the grey face still followed me. It murmured; and I understood that it desired [..........] confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting [..........] me. It began [..........] confess [..........] me [..........] a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiled continually and why the lips were so moist [..........] spittle. [..........] then I remembered that it had died [..........] paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly [..........] if [..........] absolve the simoniac [..........] his sin.

The next morning [..........] breakfast I went [..........] [..........] look [..........] the little house [..........] Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop, registered [..........] the vague name [..........] Drapery. The drapery consisted mainly [..........] children's bootees and umbrellas; and [..........] ordinary days a notice used [..........] hang [..........] the window, saying: Umbrellas Re-covered. No notice was visible now [..........] the shutters were [..........] . A crape bouquet was tied [..........] the door-knocker [..........] ribbon. Two poor women and a telegram boy were reading the card pinned [..........] the crape. I also approached and read:

July 1st, 1895
The Rev. James Flynn (formerly [..........]
S. Catherine's Church, Meath Street),
aged sixty-five years.
R. I. P.

The reading [..........] the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was disturbed [..........] find myself [..........] check. Had he not been dead I would have gone into the little dark room [..........] the shop [..........] find him sitting [..........] his arm-chair [..........] the fire, nearly smothered [..........] his great-coat. Perhaps my aunt would have given me a packet [..........] High Toast [..........] him and this present would have roused him [..........] his stupefied doze. It was always I who emptied the packet into his black snuff-box [..........] his hands trembled too much [..........] allow him [..........] do this without spilling half the snuff [..........] the floor. Even [..........] he raised his large trembling hand [..........] his nose little clouds [..........] smoke dribbled [..........] his fingers [..........] the front [..........] his coat. It may have been these constant showers [..........] snuff which gave his ancient priestly garments their green faded look [..........] the red handkerchief, blackened, [..........] it always was, [..........] the snuff-stains [..........] a week, [..........] which he tried [..........] brush away the fallen grains, was quite inefficacious.

I wished [..........] go [..........] and look [..........] him [..........] I had not the courage [..........] knock. I walked away slowly [..........] the sunny side [..........] the street, reading all the theatrical advertisements [..........] the shopwindows [..........] I went. I found it strange that neither I nor the day seemed [..........] a mourning mood and I felt even annoyed [..........] discovering [..........] myself a sensation [..........] freedom [..........] if I had been freed [..........] something [..........] his death. I wondered [..........] this [..........] , [..........] my uncle had said the night [..........] , he had taught me a great deal. He had studied [..........] the Irish college [..........] Rome and he had taught me [..........] pronounce Latin properly. He had told me stories [..........] the catacombs and [..........] Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained [..........] me the meaning [..........] the different ceremonies [..........] the Mass and [..........] the different vestments worn [..........] the priest. Sometimes he had amused himself [..........] putting difficult questions [..........] me, asking me what one should do [..........] certain circumstances or whether such and such sins were mortal or venial or only imperfections. His questions showed me how complex and mysterious were certain institutions [..........] the Church which I had always regarded [..........] the simplest acts. The duties [..........] the priest towards the Eucharist and towards the secrecy [..........] the confessional seemed so grave [..........] me that I wondered how anybody had ever found [..........] himself the courage [..........] undertake them; and I was not surprised when he told me that the fathers [..........] the Church had written books [..........] thick [..........] the Post Office Directory and [..........] closely printed [..........] the law notices [..........] the newspaper, elucidating all these intricate questions. Often when I thought [..........] this I could make no answer or only a very foolish and halting one upon which he used [..........] smile and nod his head twice or thrice. Sometimes he used [..........] put me [..........] the responses [..........] the Mass which he had made me learn [..........] heart; and, [..........] I pattered, he used [..........] smile pensively and nod his head, now and then pushing huge pinches [..........] snuff [..........] each nostril alternately. When he smiled he used [..........] uncover his big discoloured teeth and let his tongue lie upon his lower lip—a habit which had made me feel uneasy [..........] the beginning [..........] our acquaintance [..........] I knew him well.

[..........] I walked [..........] [..........] the sun I remembered old Cotter's words and tried [..........] remember what had happened afterwards [..........] the dream. I remembered that I had noticed long velvet curtains and a swinging lamp [..........] antique fashion. I felt that I had been very far away, [..........] some land where the customs were strange— [..........] Persia, I thought.... [..........] I could not remember the end [..........] the dream.

[..........] the evening my aunt took me [..........] her [..........] visit the house [..........] mourning. It was [..........] sunset; [..........] the window-panes [..........] the houses that looked [..........] the west reflected the tawny gold [..........] a great bank [..........] clouds. Nannie received us [..........] the hall; and, [..........] it would have been unseemly [..........] have shouted [..........] her, my aunt shook hands [..........] her [..........] all. The old woman pointed upwards interrogatively and, [..........] my aunt's nodding, proceeded [..........] toil [..........] the narrow staircase [..........] us, her bowed head being scarcely [..........] the level [..........] the banister-rail. [..........] the first landing she stopped and beckoned us forward encouragingly towards the open door [..........] the dead-room. My aunt went [..........] and the old woman, seeing that I hesitated [..........] enter, began [..........] beckon [..........] me again repeatedly [..........] her hand.

I went [..........] [..........] tiptoe. The room [..........] the lace end [..........] the blind was suffused [..........] dusky golden light [..........] which the candles looked [..........] pale thin flames. He had been coffined. Nannie gave the lead and we three knelt [..........] [..........] the foot [..........] the bed. I pretended [..........] pray [..........] I could not gather my thoughts because the old woman's mutterings distracted me. I noticed how clumsily her skirt was hooked [..........] the back and how the heels [..........] her cloth boots were trodden [..........] all [..........] one side. The fancy came [..........] me that the old priest was smiling [..........] he lay there [..........] his coffin.

[..........] no. When we rose and went [..........] [..........] the head [..........] the bed I saw that he was not smiling. There he lay, solemn and copious, vested [..........] [..........] the altar, his large hands loosely retaining a chalice. His face was very truculent, grey and massive, [..........] black cavernous nostrils and circled [..........] a scanty white fur. There was a heavy odour [..........] the room—the flowers.

We blessed ourselves and came away. [..........] the little room downstairs we found Eliza seated [..........] his arm-chair [..........] state. I groped my way towards my usual chair [..........] the corner while Nannie went [..........] the sideboard and brought out a decanter [..........] sherry and some wine-glasses. She set these [..........] the table and invited us [..........] take a little glass [..........] wine. Then, [..........] her sister's bidding, she filled out the sherry into the glasses and passed them [..........] us. She pressed me [..........] take some cream crackers also [..........] I declined because I thought I would make too much noise eating them. She seemed [..........] be somewhat disappointed [..........] my refusal and went [..........] quietly [..........] the sofa where she sat [..........] [..........] her sister. No one spoke: we all gazed [..........] the empty fireplace.

My aunt waited [..........] Eliza sighed and then said:

"Ah, well, he's gone [..........] a better world."

Eliza sighed again and bowed her head [..........] assent. My aunt fingered the stem [..........] her wine-glass [..........] sipping a little.

"Did he ... peacefully?" she asked.

"Oh, quite peacefully, ma'am," said Eliza. "You couldn't tell when the breath went out [..........] him. He had a beautiful death, God be praised."

"And everything...?"

"Father O'Rourke was [..........] [..........] him a Tuesday and anointed him and prepared him and all."

"He knew then?"

"He was quite resigned."

"He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.

"That's what the woman we had [..........] [..........] wash him said. She said he just looked [..........] if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and resigned. No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse."

"Yes, indeed," said my aunt.

She sipped a little more [..........] her glass and said:

"Well, Miss Flynn, [..........] any rate it must be a great comfort [..........] you [..........] know that you did all you could [..........] him. You were both very kind [..........] him, I must say."

Eliza smoothed her dress [..........] her knees.

"Ah, poor James!" she said. "God knows we done all we could, [..........] poor [..........] we are—we wouldn't see him want anything while he was [..........] it."

Nannie had leaned her head [..........] the sofa-pillow and seemed [..........] [..........] fall asleep.

"There's poor Nannie," said Eliza, looking [..........] her, "she's wore out. All the work we had, she and me, getting [..........] the woman [..........] wash him and then laying him out and then the coffin and then arranging [..........] the Mass [..........] the chapel. Only [..........] Father O'Rourke I don't know what we'd have done [..........] all. It was him brought us all them flowers and them two candlesticks out [..........] the chapel and wrote out the notice [..........] the Freeman's General and took charge [..........] all the papers [..........] the cemetery and poor James's insurance."

"Wasn't that good [..........] him?" said my aunt.

Eliza closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

"Ah, there's no friends [..........] the old friends," she said, "when all is said and done, no friends that a body can trust."

"Indeed, that's true," said my aunt. "And I'm sure now that he's gone [..........] his eternal reward he won't forget you and all your kindness [..........] him."

"Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble [..........] us. You wouldn't hear him [..........] the house any more [..........] now. Still, I know he's gone and all [..........] that...."

"It's when it's all [..........] that you'll miss him," said my aunt.

"I know that," said Eliza. "I won't be bringing him [..........] his cup [..........] beef-tea any more, nor you, ma'am, sending him his snuff. Ah, poor James!"

She stopped, [..........] if she were communing [..........] the [..........] and then said shrewdly:

"Mind you, I noticed there was something queer coming [..........] him latterly. Whenever I'd bring [..........] his soup [..........] him there I'd find him [..........] his breviary fallen [..........] the floor, lying back [..........] the chair and his mouth open."

She laid a finger [..........] her nose and frowned: then she continued:

" [..........] still and all he kept [..........] saying that [..........] the summer was [..........] he'd go out [..........] a drive one fine day just [..........] see the old house again where we were all born [..........] [..........] Irishtown and take me and Nannie [..........] him. If we could only get one [..........] them new-fangled carriages that makes no noise that Father O'Rourke told him [..........] , them [..........] the rheumatic wheels, [..........] the day cheap—he said, [..........] Johnny Rush's [..........] the way there and drive out the three [..........] us together [..........] a Sunday evening. He had his mind set [..........] that.... Poor James!"

"The Lord have mercy [..........] his soul!" said my aunt.

Eliza took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes [..........] it. Then she put it back again [..........] her pocket and gazed into the empty grate [..........] some time without speaking.

"He was too scrupulous always," she said. "The duties [..........] the priesthood was too much [..........] him. And then his life was, you might say, crossed."

"Yes," said my aunt. "He was a disappointed man. You could see that."

A silence took possession [..........] the little room and, [..........] cover [..........] it, I approached the table and tasted my sherry and then returned quietly [..........] my chair [..........] the corner. Eliza seemed [..........] have fallen into a deep revery. We waited respectfully [..........] her [..........] break the silence: and [..........] a long pause she said slowly:

"It was that chalice he broke.... That was the beginning [..........] it. [..........] course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean. [..........] still.... They say it was the boy's fault. [..........] poor James was so nervous, God be merciful [..........] him!"

"And was that it?" said my aunt. "I heard something...."

Eliza nodded.

"That affected his mind," she said. " [..........] that he began [..........] mope [..........] himself, talking [..........] no one and wandering [..........] [..........] himself. So one night he was wanted [..........] [..........] go [..........] a call and they couldn't find him anywhere. They looked high [..........] and low [..........] ; and still they couldn't see a sight [..........] him anywhere. So then the clerk suggested [..........] try the chapel. So then they got the keys and opened the chapel and the clerk and Father O'Rourke and another priest that was there brought [..........] a light [..........] [..........] look [..........] him.... And what do you think [..........] there he was, sitting [..........] [..........] himself [..........] the dark [..........] his confession-box, wide-awake and laughing- [..........] softly [..........] himself?"

She stopped suddenly [..........] if [..........] listen. I too listened; [..........] there was no sound [..........] the house: and I knew that the old priest was lying still [..........] his coffin [..........] we had seen him, solemn and truculent [..........] death, an idle chalice [..........] his breast.

Eliza resumed:

"Wide-awake and laughing- [..........] [..........] himself.... So then, [..........] course, when they saw that, that made them think that there was something gone wrong [..........] him...."

AN ENCOUNTER

IT was Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West [..........] us. He had a little library made [..........] [..........] old numbers [..........] The Union Jack, Pluck and The Halfpenny Marvel. Every evening [..........] school we met [..........] his back garden and arranged Indian battles. He and his fat young brother Leo, the idler, held the loft [..........] the stable while we tried [..........] carry it [..........] storm; or we fought a pitched battle [..........] the grass. [..........] , however well we fought, we never won siege or battle and all our bouts ended [..........] Joe Dillon's war dance [..........] victory. His parents went [..........] eight-o'clock mass every morning [..........] Gardiner Street and the peaceful odour [..........] Mrs Dillon was prevalent [..........] the hall [..........] the house. [..........] he played too fiercely [..........] us who were younger and more timid. He looked [..........] some kind [..........] an Indian when he capered [..........] the garden, an old tea-cosy [..........] his head, beating a tin [..........] his fist and yelling:

"Ya! yaka, yaka, yaka!"

Everyone was incredulous when it was reported that he had a vocation [..........] the priesthood. Nevertheless it was true.

A spirit [..........] unruliness diffused itself [..........] us and, [..........] its influence, differences [..........] culture and constitution were waived. We banded ourselves together, some boldly, some [..........] jest and some almost [..........] fear: and [..........] the number [..........] these latter, the reluctant Indians who were afraid [..........] seem studious or lacking [..........] robustness, I was one. The adventures related [..........] the literature [..........] the Wild West were remote [..........] my nature [..........] , [..........] least, they opened doors [..........] escape. I liked better some American detective stories which were traversed [..........] time [..........] time [..........] unkempt fierce and beautiful girls. Though there was nothing wrong [..........] these stories and though their intention was sometimes literary they were circulated secretly [..........] school. One day when Father Butler was hearing the four pages [..........] Roman History clumsy Leo Dillon was discovered [..........] a copy [..........] The Halfpenny Marvel.

"This page or this page? This page? Now, Dillon, [..........] ! 'Hardly had the day'.... Go [..........] ! What day? 'Hardly had the day dawned'.... Have you studied it? What have you there [..........] your pocket?"

Everyone's heart palpitated [..........] Leo Dillon handed [..........] the paper and everyone assumed an innocent face. Father Butler turned [..........] the pages, frowning.

"What is this rubbish?" he said. "The Apache Chief! Is this what you read instead [..........] studying your Roman History? Let me not find any more [..........] this wretched stuff [..........] this college. The man who wrote it, I suppose, was some wretched fellow who writes these things [..........] a drink. I'm surprised [..........] boys [..........] you, educated, reading such stuff. I could understand it if you were ... National School boys. Now, Dillon, I advise you strongly, get [..........] your work or...."

This rebuke [..........] the sober hours [..........] school paled much [..........] the glory [..........] the Wild West [..........] me and the confused puffy face [..........] Leo Dillon awakened one [..........] my consciences. [..........] when the restraining influence [..........] the school was [..........] a distance I began [..........] hunger again [..........] wild sensations, [..........] the escape which those chronicles [..........] disorder alone seemed [..........] offer me. The mimic warfare [..........] the evening became [..........] last [..........] wearisome [..........] me [..........] the routine [..........] school [..........] the morning because I wanted real adventures [..........] happen [..........] myself. [..........] real adventures, I reflected, do not happen [..........] people who remain [..........] home: they must be sought abroad.

The summer holidays were [..........] [..........] hand when I made [..........] my mind [..........] break out [..........] the weariness [..........] school-life [..........] one day [..........] least. [..........] Leo Dillon and a boy named Mahony I planned a day's miching. Each [..........] us saved [..........] sixpence. We were [..........] meet [..........] ten [..........] the morning [..........] the Canal Bridge. Mahony's big sister was [..........] write an excuse [..........] him and Leo Dillon was [..........] tell his brother [..........] say he was sick. We arranged [..........] go [..........] the Wharf Road [..........] we came [..........] the ships, then [..........] cross [..........] the ferryboat and walk out [..........] see the Pigeon House. Leo Dillon was afraid we might meet Father Butler or someone out [..........] the college; [..........] Mahony asked, very sensibly, what would Father Butler be doing out [..........] the Pigeon House. We were reassured: and I brought the first stage [..........] the plot [..........] an end [..........] collecting sixpence [..........] the other two, [..........] the same time showing them my own sixpence. When we were making the last arrangements [..........] the eve we were all vaguely excited. We shook hands, laughing, and Mahony said:

"Till tomorrow, mates!"

That night I slept badly. [..........] the morning I was first-comer [..........] the bridge [..........] I lived nearest. I hid my books [..........] the long grass [..........] the ashpit [..........] the end [..........] the garden where nobody ever came and hurried [..........] the canal bank. It was a mild sunny morning [..........] the first week [..........] June. I sat [..........] [..........] the coping [..........] the bridge admiring my frail canvas shoes which I had diligently pipeclayed overnight and watching the docile horses pulling a tramload [..........] business people [..........] the hill. All the branches [..........] the tall trees which lined the mall were gay [..........] little light green leaves and the sunlight slanted [..........] them [..........] [..........] the water. The granite stone [..........] the bridge was beginning [..........] be warm and I began [..........] pat it [..........] my hands [..........] time [..........] an air [..........] my head. I was very happy.

When I had been sitting there [..........] five or ten minutes I saw Mahony's grey suit approaching. He came [..........] the hill, smiling, and clambered [..........] [..........] me [..........] the bridge. While we were waiting he brought out the catapult which bulged [..........] his inner pocket and explained some improvements which he had made [..........] it. I asked him why he had brought it and he told me he had brought it [..........] have some gas [..........] the birds. Mahony used slang freely, and spoke [..........] Father Butler [..........] Old Bunser. We waited [..........] [..........] a quarter [..........] an hour more [..........] still there was no sign [..........] Leo Dillon. Mahony, [..........] last, jumped [..........] and said:

"Come [..........] . I knew Fatty'd funk it."

"And his sixpence...?" I said.

"That's forfeit," said Mahony. "And so much the better [..........] us—a bob and a tanner instead [..........] a bob."

We walked [..........] the North Strand Road till we came [..........] the Vitriol Works and then turned [..........] the right [..........] the Wharf Road. Mahony began [..........] play the Indian [..........] soon [..........] we were out [..........] public sight. He chased a crowd [..........] ragged girls, brandishing his unloaded catapult and, when two ragged boys began, out [..........] chivalry, [..........] fling stones [..........] us, he proposed that we should charge them. I objected that the boys were too small and so we walked [..........] , the ragged troop screaming [..........] us: "Swaddlers! Swaddlers!" thinking that we were Protestants because Mahony, who was dark-complexioned, wore the silver badge [..........] a cricket club [..........] his cap. When we came [..........] the Smoothing Iron we arranged a siege; [..........] it was a failure because you must have [..........] least three. We revenged ourselves [..........] Leo Dillon [..........] saying what a funk he was and guessing how many he would get [..........] three o'clock [..........] Mr Ryan.

We came then [..........] the river. We spent a long time walking [..........] the noisy streets flanked [..........] high stone walls, watching the working [..........] cranes and engines and often being shouted [..........] [..........] our immobility [..........] the drivers [..........] groaning carts. It was noon when we reached the quays and, [..........] all the labourers seemed [..........] be eating their lunches, we bought two big currant buns and sat [..........] [..........] eat them [..........] some metal piping [..........] the river. We pleased ourselves [..........] the spectacle [..........] Dublin's commerce—the barges signalled [..........] far away [..........] their curls [..........] woolly smoke, the brown fishing fleet [..........] Ringsend, the big white sailing-vessel which was being discharged [..........] the [..........] quay. Mahony said it would be right skit [..........] run away [..........] sea [..........] one [..........] those big ships and even I, looking [..........] the high masts, saw, or imagined, the geography which had been scantily dosed [..........] me [..........] school gradually taking substance [..........] my eyes. School and home seemed [..........] recede [..........] us and their influences upon us seemed [..........] wane.

We crossed the Liffey [..........] the ferryboat, paying our toll [..........] be transported [..........] the company [..........] two labourers and a little Jew [..........] a bag. We were serious [..........] the point [..........] solemnity, [..........] once [..........] the short voyage our eyes met and we laughed. When we landed we watched the discharging [..........] the graceful threemaster which we had observed [..........] the other quay. Some bystander said that she was a Norwegian vessel. I went [..........] the stern and tried [..........] decipher the legend upon it [..........] , failing [..........] do so, I came back and examined the foreign sailors [..........] see had any [..........] them green eyes [..........] I had some confused notion.... The sailors' eyes were blue and grey and even black. The only sailor whose eyes could have been called green was a tall man who amused the crowd [..........] the quay [..........] calling out cheerfully every time the planks fell:

"All right! All right!"

When we were tired [..........] this sight we wandered slowly into Ringsend. The day had grown sultry, and [..........] the windows [..........] the grocers' shops musty biscuits lay bleaching. We bought some biscuits and chocolate which we ate sedulously [..........] we wandered [..........] the squalid streets where the families [..........] the fishermen live. We could find no dairy and so we went into a huckster's shop and bought a bottle [..........] raspberry lemonade each. Refreshed [..........] this, Mahony chased a cat [..........] a lane, [..........] the cat escaped into a wide field. We both felt rather tired and when we reached the field we made [..........] once [..........] a sloping bank [..........] the ridge [..........] which we could see the Dodder.

It was too late and we were too tired [..........] carry out our project [..........] visiting the Pigeon House. We had [..........] be home [..........] four o'clock lest our adventure should be discovered. Mahony looked regretfully [..........] his catapult and I had [..........] suggest going home [..........] train [..........] he regained any cheerfulness. The sun went [..........] [..........] some clouds and left us [..........] our jaded thoughts and the crumbs [..........] our provisions.

There was nobody [..........] ourselves [..........] the field. When we had lain [..........] the bank [..........] some time without speaking I saw a man approaching [..........] the far end [..........] the field. I watched him lazily [..........] I chewed one [..........] those green stems [..........] which girls tell fortunes. He came [..........] [..........] the bank slowly. He walked [..........] one hand upon his hip and [..........] the other hand he held a stick [..........] which he tapped the turf lightly. He was shabbily dressed [..........] a suit [..........] greenish-black and wore what we used [..........] call a jerry hat [..........] a high crown. He seemed [..........] be fairly old [..........] his moustache was ashen-grey. When he passed [..........] our feet he glanced [..........] [..........] us quickly and then continued his way. We followed him [..........] our eyes and saw that when he had gone [..........] [..........] perhaps fifty paces he turned [..........] and began [..........] retrace his steps. He walked towards us very slowly, always tapping the ground [..........] his stick, so slowly that I thought he was looking [..........] something [..........] the grass.

He stopped when he came level [..........] us and bade us good-day. We answered him and he sat [..........] [..........] us [..........] the slope slowly and [..........] great care. He began [..........] talk [..........] the weather, saying that it would be a very hot summer and adding that the seasons had changed greatly [..........] he was a boy—a long time ago. He said that the happiest time [..........] one's life was undoubtedly one's school-boy days and that he would give anything [..........] be young again. While he expressed these sentiments which bored us a little we kept silent. Then he began [..........] talk [..........] school and [..........] books. He asked us whether we had read the poetry [..........] Thomas Moore or the works [..........] Sir Walter Scott and Lord Lytton. I pretended that I had read every book he mentioned so that [..........] the end he said:

"Ah, I can see you are a bookworm [..........] myself. Now," he added, pointing [..........] Mahony who was [..........] us [..........] open eyes, "he is different; he goes [..........] [..........] games."

He said he had all Sir Walter Scott's works and all Lord Lytton's works [..........] home and never tired [..........] reading them. " [..........] course," he said, "there were some [..........] Lord Lytton's works which boys couldn't read." Mahony asked why couldn't boys read them—a question which agitated and pained me because I was afraid the man would think I was [..........] stupid [..........] Mahony. The man, however, only smiled. I saw that he had great gaps [..........] his mouth [..........] his yellow teeth. Then he asked us which [..........] us had the most sweethearts. Mahony mentioned lightly that he had three totties. The man asked me how many had I. I answered that I had none. He did not believe me and said he was sure I must have one. I was silent.

"Tell us," said Mahony pertly [..........] the man, "how many have you yourself?"

The man smiled [..........] [..........] and said that when he was our age he had lots [..........] sweethearts.

"Every boy," he said, "has a little sweetheart."

His attitude [..........] this point struck me [..........] strangely liberal [..........] a man [..........] his age. [..........] my heart I thought that what he said [..........] boys and sweethearts was reasonable. [..........] I disliked the words [..........] his mouth and I wondered why he shivered once or twice [..........] if he feared something or felt a sudden chill. [..........] he proceeded I noticed that his accent was good. He began [..........] speak [..........] us [..........] girls, saying what nice soft hair they had and how soft their hands were and how all girls were not so good [..........] they seemed [..........] be if one only knew. There was nothing he liked, he said, so much [..........] looking [..........] a nice young girl, [..........] her nice white hands and her beautiful soft hair. He gave me the impression that he was repeating something which he had learned [..........] heart or that, magnetised [..........] some words [..........] his own speech, his mind was slowly circling [..........] and [..........] [..........] the same orbit. [..........] times he spoke [..........] if he were simply alluding [..........] some fact that everybody knew, and [..........] times he lowered his voice and spoke mysteriously [..........] if he were telling us something secret which he did not wish others [..........] overhear. He repeated his phrases [..........] and [..........] again, varying them and surrounding them [..........] his monotonous voice. I continued [..........] gaze towards the foot [..........] the slope, listening [..........] him.

[..........] a long while his monologue paused. He stood [..........] slowly, saying that he had [..........] leave us [..........] a minute or so, a few minutes, and, without changing the direction [..........] my gaze, I saw him walking slowly away [..........] us towards the [..........] end [..........] the field. We remained silent when he had gone. [..........] a silence [..........] a few minutes I heard Mahony exclaim:

"I say! Look what he's doing!"

[..........] I neither answered nor raised my eyes Mahony exclaimed again:

"I say.... He's a queer old josser!"

" [..........] case he asks us [..........] our names," I said, "let you be Murphy and I'll be Smith."

We said nothing further [..........] each other. I was still [..........] whether I would go away or not when the man came back and sat [..........] [..........] us again. Hardly had he sat [..........] when Mahony, catching sight [..........] the cat which had escaped him, sprang [..........] and pursued her [..........] the field. The man and I watched the chase. The cat escaped once more and Mahony began [..........] throw stones [..........] the wall she had escaladed. Desisting [..........] this, he began [..........] wander [..........] the far end [..........] the field, aimlessly.

[..........] an interval the man spoke [..........] me. He said that my friend was a very rough boy and asked did he get whipped often [..........] school. I was going [..........] reply indignantly that we were not National School boys [..........] be whipped, [..........] he called it; [..........] I remained silent. He began [..........] speak [..........] the subject [..........] chastising boys. His mind, [..........] if magnetised again [..........] his speech, seemed [..........] circle slowly [..........] and [..........] its new centre. He said that when boys were that kind they ought [..........] be whipped and well whipped. When a boy was rough and unruly there was nothing would do him any good [..........] a good sound whipping. A slap [..........] the hand or a box [..........] the ear was no good: what he wanted was [..........] get a nice warm whipping. I was surprised [..........] this sentiment and involuntarily glanced [..........] [..........] his face. [..........] I did so I met the gaze [..........] a pair [..........] bottle-green eyes peering [..........] me [..........] [..........] a twitching forehead. I turned my eyes away again.

The man continued his monologue. He seemed [..........] have forgotten his recent liberalism. He said that if ever he found a boy talking [..........] girls or having a girl [..........] a sweetheart he would whip him and whip him; and that would teach him not [..........] be talking [..........] girls. And if a boy had a girl [..........] a sweetheart and told lies [..........] it then he would give him such a whipping [..........] no boy ever got [..........] this world. He said that there was nothing [..........] this world he would [..........] so well [..........] that. He described [..........] me how he would whip such a boy [..........] if he were unfolding some elaborate mystery. He would love that, he said, better [..........] anything [..........] this world; and his voice, [..........] he led me monotonously [..........] the mystery, grew almost affectionate and seemed [..........] plead [..........] me that I should understand him.

I waited till his monologue paused again. Then I stood [..........] abruptly. Lest I should betray my agitation I delayed a few moments pretending [..........] fix my shoe properly and then, saying that I was obliged [..........] go, I bade him good-day. I went [..........] the slope calmly [..........] my heart was beating quickly [..........] fear that he would seize me [..........] the ankles. When I reached the top [..........] the slope I turned [..........] and, without looking [..........] him, called loudly [..........] the field:

"Murphy!"

My voice had an accent [..........] forced bravery [..........] it and I was ashamed [..........] my paltry stratagem. I had [..........] call the name again [..........] Mahony saw me and hallooed [..........] answer. How my heart beat [..........] he came running [..........] the field [..........] me! He ran [..........] if [..........] bring me aid. And I was penitent; [..........] [..........] my heart I had always despised him a little.

ARABY

NORTH RICHMOND STREET, being blind, was a quiet street [..........] [..........] the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house [..........] two storeys stood [..........] the blind end, detached [..........] its neighbours [..........] a square ground. The other houses [..........] the street, conscious [..........] decent lives within them, gazed [..........] one another [..........] brown imperturbable faces.

The former tenant [..........] our house, a priest, had died [..........] the back drawing-room. Air, musty [..........] having been long enclosed, hung [..........] all the rooms, and the waste room [..........] the kitchen was littered [..........] old useless papers. [..........] these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages [..........] which were curled and damp: The Abbot, [..........] Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant and The Memoirs [..........] Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden [..........] the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes [..........] one [..........] which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; [..........] his will he had left all his money [..........] institutions and the furniture [..........] his house [..........] his sister.

When the short days [..........] winter came dusk fell [..........] we had well eaten our dinners. When we met [..........] the street the houses had grown sombre. The space [..........] sky [..........] us was the colour [..........] ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps [..........] the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed [..........] the silent street. The career [..........] our play brought us [..........] the dark muddy lanes [..........] the houses where we ran the gauntlet [..........] the rough tribes [..........] the cottages, [..........] the back doors [..........] the dark dripping gardens where odours arose [..........] the ashpits, [..........] the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music [..........] the buckled harness. When we returned [..........] the street light [..........] the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner we hid [..........] the shadow [..........] we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out [..........] the doorstep [..........] call her brother [..........] [..........] his tea we watched her [..........] our shadow peer [..........] and [..........] the street. We waited [..........] see whether she would remain or go [..........] and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked [..........] [..........] Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting [..........] us, her figure defined [..........] the light [..........] the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her [..........] he obeyed and I stood [..........] the railings looking [..........] her. Her dress swung [..........] she moved her body and the soft rope [..........] her hair tossed [..........] side [..........] side.

Every morning I lay [..........] the floor [..........] the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled [..........] [..........] within an inch [..........] the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out [..........] the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran [..........] the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always [..........] my eye and, when we came [..........] the point [..........] which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning [..........] morning. I had never spoken [..........] her, [..........] [..........] a few casual words, and yet her name was [..........] a summons [..........] all my foolish blood.

Her image accompanied me even [..........] places the most hostile [..........] romance. [..........] Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had [..........] go [..........] carry some [..........] the parcels. We walked [..........] the flaring streets, jostled [..........] drunken men and bargaining women, [..........] the curses [..........] labourers, the shrill litanies [..........] shop-boys who stood [..........] guard [..........] the barrels [..........] pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting [..........] street-singers, who sang a come-all-you [..........] O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad [..........] the troubles [..........] our native land. These noises converged [..........] a single sensation [..........] life [..........] me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely [..........] a throng [..........] foes. Her name sprang [..........] my lips [..........] moments [..........] strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full [..........] tears (I could not tell why) and [..........] times a flood [..........] my heart seemed [..........] pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little [..........] the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak [..........] her or not or, if I spoke [..........] her, how I could tell her [..........] my confused adoration. [..........] my body was [..........] a harp and her words and gestures were [..........] fingers running upon the wires.

One evening I went into the back drawing-room [..........] which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound [..........] the house. [..........] one [..........] the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles [..........] water playing [..........] the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed [..........] me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed [..........] desire [..........] veil themselves and, feeling that I was [..........] [..........] slip [..........] them, I pressed the palms [..........] my hands together [..........] they trembled, murmuring: "O love! O love!" many times.

[..........] last she spoke [..........] me. When she addressed the first words [..........] me I was so confused that I did not know what [..........] answer. She asked me was I going [..........] Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar, she said; she would love [..........] go.

"And why can't you?" I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet [..........] and [..........] her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week [..........] her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting [..........] their caps and I was alone [..........] the railings. She held one [..........] the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light [..........] the lamp [..........] our door caught the white curve [..........] her neck, lit [..........] her hair that rested there and, falling, lit [..........] the hand upon the railing. It fell [..........] one side [..........] her dress and caught the white border [..........] a petticoat, just visible [..........] she stood [..........] ease.

"It's well [..........] you," she said.

"If I go," I said, "I will bring you something."

What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts [..........] that evening! I wished [..........] annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed [..........] the work [..........] school. [..........] night [..........] my bedroom and [..........] day [..........] the classroom her image came [..........] me and the page I strove [..........] read. The syllables [..........] the word Araby were called [..........] me [..........] the silence [..........] which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment [..........] me. I asked [..........] leave [..........] go [..........] the bazaar [..........] Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions [..........] class. I watched my master's face pass [..........] amiability [..........] sternness; he hoped I was not beginning [..........] idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience [..........] the serious work [..........] life which, now that it stood [..........] me and my desire, seemed [..........] me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

[..........] Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished [..........] go [..........] the bazaar [..........] the evening. He was fussing [..........] the hallstand, looking [..........] the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:

"Yes, boy, I know."

[..........] he was [..........] the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie [..........] the window. I left the house [..........] bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.

When I came home [..........] dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring [..........] the clock [..........] some time and, when its ticking began [..........] irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part [..........] the house. The high cold empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went [..........] room [..........] room singing. [..........] the front window I saw my companions playing [..........] [..........] the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead [..........] the cool glass, I looked [..........] [..........] the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there [..........] an hour, seeing nothing [..........] the brown-clad figure cast [..........] my imagination, touched discreetly [..........] the lamplight [..........] the curved neck, [..........] the hand upon the railings and [..........] the border [..........] the dress.

When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting [..........] the fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps [..........] some pious purpose. I had [..........] endure the gossip [..........] the tea-table. The meal was prolonged [..........] an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood [..........] [..........] go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, [..........] it was [..........] eight o'clock and she did not [..........] [..........] be out late [..........] the night air was bad [..........] her. When she had gone I began [..........] walk [..........] and [..........] the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:

"I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar [..........] this night [..........] Our Lord."

[..........] nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey [..........] the halldoor. I heard him talking [..........] himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight [..........] his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway [..........] his dinner I asked him [..........] give me the money [..........] go [..........] the bazaar. He had forgotten.

"The people are [..........] bed and [..........] their first sleep now," he said.

I did not smile. My aunt said [..........] him energetically:

"Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough [..........] it is."

My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed [..........] the old saying: "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He asked me where I was going and, when I had told him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell [..........] his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was [..........] [..........] recite the opening lines [..........] the piece [..........] my aunt.

I held a florin tightly [..........] my hand [..........] I strode [..........] Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight [..........] the streets thronged [..........] buyers and glaring [..........] gas recalled [..........] me the purpose [..........] my journey. I took my seat [..........] a third-class carriage [..........] a deserted train. [..........] an intolerable delay the train moved out [..........] the station slowly. It crept onward [..........] ruinous houses and [..........] the twinkling river. [..........] Westland Row Station a crowd [..........] people pressed [..........] the carriage doors; [..........] the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train [..........] the bazaar. I remained alone [..........] the bare carriage. [..........] a few minutes the train drew [..........] [..........] an improvised wooden platform. I passed out [..........] [..........] the road and saw [..........] the lighted dial [..........] a clock that it was ten minutes [..........] ten. [..........] front [..........] me was a large building which displayed the magical name.

I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed [..........] quickly [..........] a turnstile, handing a shilling [..........] a weary-looking man. I found myself [..........] a big hall girdled [..........] half its height [..........] a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part [..........] the hall was [..........] darkness. I recognised a silence [..........] that which pervades a church [..........] a service. I walked into the centre [..........] the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered [..........] the stalls which were still open. [..........] a curtain, [..........] which the words Café Chantant were written [..........] coloured lamps, two men were counting money [..........] a salver. I listened [..........] the fall [..........] the coins.

Remembering [..........] difficulty why I had come I went [..........] [..........] one [..........] the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. [..........] the door [..........] the stall a young lady was talking and laughing [..........] two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely [..........] their conversation.

"O, I never said such a thing!"

"O, [..........] you did!"

"O, [..........] I didn't!"

"Didn't she say that?"

"Yes. I heard her."

"O, there's a ... fib!"

Observing me the young lady came [..........] and asked me did I wish [..........] buy anything. The tone [..........] her voice was not encouraging; she seemed [..........] have spoken [..........] me out [..........] a sense [..........] duty. I looked humbly [..........] the great jars that stood [..........] eastern guards [..........] either side [..........] the dark entrance [..........] the stall and murmured:

"No, thank you."

The young lady changed the position [..........] one [..........] the vases and went back [..........] the two young men. They began [..........] talk [..........] the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced [..........] me [..........] her shoulder.

I lingered [..........] her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, [..........] make my interest [..........] her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked [..........] the middle [..........] the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies [..........] fall [..........] the sixpence [..........] my pocket. I heard a voice call [..........] one end [..........] the gallery that the light was out. The upper part [..........] the hall was now completely dark.

Gazing [..........] into the darkness I saw myself [..........] a creature driven and derided [..........] vanity; and my eyes burned [..........] anguish and anger.

EVELINE

SHE sat [..........] the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned [..........] the window curtains and [..........] her nostrils was the odour [..........] dusty cretonne. She was tired.

Few people passed. The man out [..........] the last house passed [..........] his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking [..........] the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching [..........] the cinder path [..........] the new red houses. One time there used [..........] be a field there [..........] which they used [..........] play every evening [..........] other people's children. Then a man [..........] Belfast bought the field and built houses [..........] it—not [..........] their little brown houses [..........] bright brick houses [..........] shining roofs. The children [..........] the avenue used [..........] play together [..........] that field—the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown [..........] . Her father used often [..........] hunt them [..........] out [..........] the field [..........] his blackthorn stick; [..........] usually little Keogh used [..........] keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed [..........] have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown [..........] ; her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back [..........] England. Everything changes. Now she was going [..........] go away [..........] the others, [..........] leave her home.

Home! She looked [..........] the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week [..........] so many years, wondering where [..........] earth all the dust came [..........] . Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects [..........] which she had never dreamed [..........] being divided. And yet [..........] all those years she had never found out the name [..........] the priest whose yellowing photograph hung [..........] the wall [..........] the broken harmonium [..........] the coloured print [..........] the promises made [..........] Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend [..........] her father. Whenever he showed the photograph [..........] a visitor her father used [..........] pass it [..........] a casual word:

"He is [..........] Melbourne now."

She had consented [..........] go away, [..........] leave her home. Was that wise? She tried [..........] weigh each side [..........] the question. [..........] her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life [..........] her. [..........] course she had [..........] work hard, both [..........] the house and [..........] business. What would they say [..........] her [..........] the Stores when they found out that she had run away [..........] a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled [..........] [..........] advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge [..........] her, especially whenever there were people listening.

"Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?"

"Look lively, Miss Hill, please."

She would not cry many tears [..........] leaving the Stores.

[..........] [..........] her new home, [..........] a distant unknown country, it would not be [..........] that. Then she would be married—she, Eveline. People would treat her [..........] respect then. She would not be treated [..........] her mother had been. Even now, though she was [..........] nineteen, she sometimes felt herself [..........] danger [..........] her father's violence. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations. When they were growing [..........] he had never gone [..........] her [..........] he used [..........] go [..........] Harry and Ernest, because she was a girl; [..........] latterly he had begun [..........] threaten her and say what he would do [..........] her only [..........] her dead mother's sake. And now she had nobody [..........] protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was [..........] the church decorating business, was nearly always [..........] somewhere [..........] the country. Besides, the invariable squabble [..........] money [..........] Saturday nights had begun [..........] weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages—seven shillings—and Harry always sent [..........] what he could [..........] the trouble was [..........] get any money [..........] her father. He said she used [..........] squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn't going [..........] give her his hard-earned money [..........] throw [..........] the streets, and much more, [..........] he was usually fairly bad [..........] a Saturday night. [..........] the end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention [..........] buying Sunday's dinner. Then she had [..........] rush out [..........] quickly [..........] she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly [..........] her hand [..........] she elbowed her way [..........] the crowds and returning home late [..........] her load [..........] provisions. She had hard work [..........] keep the house together and [..........] see that the two young children who had been left [..........] her charge went [..........] school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work—a hard life— [..........] now that she was [..........] [..........] leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.

She was [..........] [..........] explore another life [..........] Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, open-hearted. She was [..........] go away [..........] him [..........] the night-boat [..........] be his wife and [..........] live [..........] him [..........] Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting [..........] her. How well she remembered the first time she had seen him; he was lodging [..........] a house [..........] the main road where she used [..........] visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He was standing [..........] the gate, his peaked cap pushed back [..........] his head and his hair tumbled forward [..........] a face [..........] bronze. Then they had come [..........] know each other. He used [..........] meet her [..........] the Stores every evening and see her home. He took her [..........] see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated [..........] she sat [..........] an unaccustomed part [..........] the theatre [..........] him. He was awfully fond [..........] music and sang a little. People knew that they were courting and, when he sang [..........] the lass that loves a sailor, she always felt pleasantly confused. He used [..........] call her Poppens out [..........] fun. First [..........] all it had been an excitement [..........] her [..........] have a fellow and then she had begun [..........] [..........] him. He had tales [..........] distant countries. He had started [..........] a deck boy [..........] a pound a month [..........] a ship [..........] the Allan Line going out [..........] Canada. He told her the names [..........] the ships he had been [..........] and the names [..........] the different services. He had sailed [..........] the Straits [..........] Magellan and he told her stories [..........] the terrible Patagonians. He had fallen [..........] his feet [..........] Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come [..........] [..........] the old country just [..........] a holiday. [..........] course, her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her [..........] have anything [..........] say [..........] him.

"I know these sailor chaps," he said.

One day he had quarrelled [..........] Frank and [..........] that she had [..........] meet her lover secretly.

The evening deepened [..........] the avenue. The white [..........] two letters [..........] her lap grew indistinct. One was [..........] Harry; the other was [..........] her father. Ernest had been her favourite [..........] she liked Harry too. Her father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her. Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long [..........] , when she had been laid [..........] [..........] a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made toast [..........] her [..........] the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive, they had all gone [..........] a picnic [..........] the Hill [..........] Howth. She remembered her father putting [..........] her mother's bonnet [..........] make the children laugh.

Her time was running out [..........] she continued [..........] sit [..........] the window, leaning her head [..........] the window curtain, inhaling the odour [..........] dusty cretonne. [..........] far [..........] the avenue she could hear a street organ playing. She knew the air. Strange that it should come that very night [..........] remind her [..........] the promise [..........] her mother, her promise [..........] keep the home together [..........] long [..........] she could. She remembered the last night [..........] her mother's illness; she was again [..........] the close dark room [..........] the other side [..........] the hall and [..........] she heard a melancholy air [..........] Italy. The organ-player had been ordered [..........] go away and given sixpence. She remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:

"Damned Italians! coming [..........] here!"

[..........] she mused the pitiful vision [..........] her mother's life laid its spell [..........] the very quick [..........] her being—that life [..........] commonplace sacrifices closing [..........] final craziness. She trembled [..........] she heard again her mother's voice saying constantly [..........] foolish insistence:

"Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!"

She stood [..........] [..........] a sudden impulse [..........] terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would [..........] her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. [..........] she wanted [..........] live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right [..........] happiness. Frank would take her [..........] his arms, fold her [..........] his arms. He would [..........] her.

She stood [..........] the swaying crowd [..........] the station [..........] the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking [..........] her, saying something [..........] the passage [..........] and [..........] again. The station was full [..........] soldiers [..........] brown baggages. [..........] the wide doors [..........] the sheds she caught a glimpse [..........] the black mass [..........] the boat, lying [..........] [..........] the quay wall, [..........] illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out [..........] a maze [..........] distress, she prayed [..........] God [..........] direct her, [..........] show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be [..........] the sea [..........] Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back [..........] all he had done [..........] her? Her distress awoke a nausea [..........] her body and she kept moving her lips [..........] silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

"Come!"

All the seas [..........] the world tumbled [..........] her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped [..........] both hands [..........] the iron railing.

"Come!"

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron [..........] frenzy. [..........] the seas she sent a cry [..........] anguish!

"Eveline! Evvy!"

He rushed [..........] the barrier and called [..........] her [..........] follow. He was shouted [..........] [..........] go [..........] [..........] he still called [..........] her. She set her white face [..........] him, passive, [..........] a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign [..........] love or farewell or recognition.

[..........] THE RACE

THE cars came scudding [..........] towards Dublin, running evenly [..........] pellets [..........] the groove [..........] the Naas Road. [..........] the crest [..........] the hill [..........] Inchicore sightseers had gathered [..........] clumps [..........] watch the cars careering homeward and [..........] this channel [..........] poverty and inaction the Continent sped its wealth and industry. Now and again the clumps [..........] people raised the cheer [..........] the gratefully oppressed. Their sympathy, however, was [..........] the blue cars—the cars [..........] their friends, the French.

The French, moreover, were virtual victors. Their team had finished solidly; they had been placed second and third and the driver [..........] the winning German car was reported a Belgian. Each blue car, therefore, received a double measure [..........] welcome [..........] it topped the crest [..........] the hill and each cheer [..........] welcome was acknowledged [..........] smiles and nods [..........] those [..........] the car. [..........] one [..........] these trimly built cars was a party [..........] four young men whose spirits seemed [..........] be [..........] present well [..........] the level [..........] successful Gallicism: [..........] fact, these four young men were almost hilarious. They were Charles Ségouin, the owner [..........] the car; André Rivière, a young electrician [..........] Canadian birth; a huge Hungarian named Villona and a neatly groomed young man named Doyle. Ségouin was [..........] good humour because he had unexpectedly received some orders [..........] advance (he was [..........] [..........] start a motor establishment [..........] Paris) and Rivière was [..........] good humour because he was [..........] be appointed manager [..........] the establishment; these two young men (who were cousins) were also [..........] good humour because [..........] the success [..........] the French cars. Villona was [..........] good humour because he had had a very satisfactory luncheon; and besides he was an optimist [..........] nature. The fourth member [..........] the party, however, was too excited [..........] be genuinely happy.

He was [..........] twenty-six years [..........] age, [..........] a soft, light brown moustache and rather innocent-looking grey eyes. His father, who had begun life [..........] an advanced Nationalist, had modified his views early. He had made his money [..........] a butcher [..........] Kingstown and [..........] opening shops [..........] Dublin and [..........] the suburbs he had made his money many times [..........] . He had also been fortunate enough [..........] secure some [..........] the police contracts and [..........] the end he had become rich enough [..........] be alluded [..........] [..........] the Dublin newspapers [..........] a merchant prince. He had sent his son [..........] England [..........] be educated [..........] a big Catholic college and had afterwards sent him [..........] Dublin University [..........] study law. Jimmy did not study very earnestly and took [..........] bad courses [..........] a while. He had money and he was popular; and he divided his time curiously [..........] musical and motoring circles. Then he had been sent [..........] a term [..........] Cambridge [..........] see a little life. His father, remonstrative, [..........] covertly proud [..........] the excess, had paid his bills and brought him home. It was [..........] Cambridge that he had met Ségouin. They were not much more [..........] acquaintances [..........] yet [..........] Jimmy found great pleasure [..........] the society [..........] one who had seen so much [..........] the world and was reputed [..........] own some [..........] the biggest hotels [..........] France. Such a person ( [..........] his father agreed) was well worth knowing, even if he had not been the charming companion he was. Villona was entertaining also—a brilliant pianist— [..........] , unfortunately, very poor.

The car ran [..........] merrily [..........] its cargo [..........] hilarious youth. The two cousins sat [..........] the front seat; Jimmy and his Hungarian friend sat [..........] . Decidedly Villona was [..........] excellent spirits; he kept [..........] a deep bass hum [..........] melody [..........] miles [..........] the road. The Frenchmen flung their laughter and light words [..........] their shoulders and often Jimmy had [..........] strain forward [..........] catch the quick phrase. This was not altogether pleasant [..........] him, [..........] he had nearly always [..........] make a deft guess [..........] the meaning and shout back a suitable answer [..........] the face [..........] a high wind. Besides Villona's humming would confuse anybody; the noise [..........] the car, too.

Rapid motion [..........] space elates one; so does notoriety; so does the possession [..........] money. These were three good reasons [..........] Jimmy's excitement. He had been seen [..........] many [..........] his friends that day [..........] the company [..........] these Continentals. [..........] the control Ségouin had presented him [..........] one [..........] the French competitors and, [..........] answer [..........] his confused murmur [..........] compliment, the swarthy face [..........] the driver had disclosed a line [..........] shining white teeth. It was pleasant [..........] that honour [..........] return [..........] the profane world [..........] spectators [..........] nudges and significant looks. Then [..........] [..........] money—he really had a great sum [..........] his control. Ségouin, perhaps, would not think it a great sum [..........] Jimmy who, [..........] spite [..........] temporary errors, was [..........] heart the inheritor [..........] solid instincts knew well [..........] what difficulty it had been got together. This knowledge had previously kept his bills within the limits [..........] reasonable recklessness, and, if he had been so conscious [..........] the labour latent [..........] money when there had been question merely [..........] some freak [..........] the higher intelligence, how much more so now when he was [..........] [..........] stake the greater part [..........] his substance! It was a serious thing [..........] him.

[..........] course, the investment was a good one and Ségouin had managed [..........] give the impression that it was [..........] a favour [..........] friendship the mite [..........] Irish money was [..........] be included [..........] the capital [..........] the concern. Jimmy had a respect [..........] his father's shrewdness [..........] business matters and [..........] this case it had been his father who had first suggested the investment; money [..........] be made [..........] the motor business, pots [..........] money. Moreover Ségouin had the unmistakable air [..........] wealth. Jimmy set out [..........] translate into days' work that lordly car [..........] which he sat. How smoothly it ran. [..........] what style they had come careering [..........] the country roads! The journey laid a magical finger [..........] the genuine pulse [..........] life and gallantly the machinery [..........] human nerves strove [..........] answer the bounding courses [..........] the swift blue animal.

They drove [..........] Dame Street. The street was busy [..........] unusual traffic, loud [..........] the horns [..........] motorists and the gongs [..........] impatient tram-drivers. [..........] the Bank Ségouin drew [..........] and Jimmy and his friend alighted. A little knot [..........] people collected [..........] the footpath [..........] pay homage [..........] the snorting motor. The party was [..........] dine together that evening [..........] Ségouin's hotel and, meanwhile, Jimmy and his friend, who was staying [..........] him, were [..........] go home [..........] dress. The car steered out slowly [..........] Grafton Street while the two young men pushed their way [..........] the knot [..........] gazers. They walked northward [..........] a curious feeling [..........] disappointment [..........] the exercise, while the city hung its pale globes [..........] light [..........] them [..........] a haze [..........] summer evening.

[..........] Jimmy's house this dinner had been pronounced an occasion. A certain pride mingled [..........] his parents' trepidation, a certain eagerness, also, [..........] play fast and loose [..........] the names [..........] great foreign cities have [..........] least this virtue. Jimmy, too, looked very well when he was dressed and, [..........] he stood [..........] the hall giving a last equation [..........] the bows [..........] his dress tie, his father may have felt even commercially satisfied [..........] having secured [..........] his son qualities often unpurchaseable. His father, therefore, was unusually friendly [..........] Villona and his manner expressed a real respect [..........] foreign accomplishments; [..........] this subtlety [..........] his host was probably lost upon the Hungarian, who was beginning [..........] have a sharp desire [..........] his dinner.

The dinner was excellent, exquisite. Ségouin, Jimmy decided, had a very refined taste. The party was increased [..........] a young Englishman named Routh whom Jimmy had seen [..........] Ségouin [..........] Cambridge. The young men supped [..........] a snug room lit [..........] electric candle-lamps. They talked volubly and [..........] little reserve. Jimmy, whose imagination was kindling, conceived the lively youth [..........] the Frenchmen twined elegantly upon the firm framework [..........] the Englishman's manner. A graceful image [..........] his, he thought, and a just one. He admired the dexterity [..........] which their host directed the conversation. The five young men had various tastes and their tongues had been loosened. Villona, [..........] immense respect, began [..........] discover [..........] the mildly surprised Englishman the beauties [..........] the English madrigal, deploring the loss [..........] old instruments. Rivière, not wholly ingenuously, undertook [..........] explain [..........] Jimmy the triumph [..........] the French mechanicians. The resonant voice [..........] the Hungarian was [..........] [..........] prevail [..........] ridicule [..........] the spurious lutes [..........] the romantic painters when Ségouin shepherded his party into politics. Here was congenial ground [..........] all. Jimmy, [..........] generous influences, felt the buried zeal [..........] his father wake [..........] life within him: he aroused the torpid Routh [..........] last. The room grew doubly hot and Ségouin's task grew harder each moment: there was even danger [..........] personal spite. The alert host [..........] an opportunity lifted his glass [..........] Humanity and, when the toast had been drunk, he threw open a window significantly.

That night the city wore the mask [..........] a capital. The five young men strolled [..........] Stephen's Green [..........] a faint cloud [..........] aromatic smoke. They talked loudly and gaily and their cloaks dangled [..........] their shoulders. The people made way [..........] them. [..........] the corner [..........] Grafton Street a short fat man was putting two handsome ladies [..........] a car [..........] charge [..........] another fat man. The car drove off and the short fat man caught sight [..........] the party.

"André."

"It's Farley!"

A torrent [..........] talk followed. Farley was an American. No one knew very well what the talk was [..........] . Villona and Rivière were the noisiest, [..........] all the men were excited. They got [..........] [..........] a car, squeezing themselves together [..........] much laughter. They drove [..........] the crowd, blended now into soft colours, [..........] a music [..........] merry bells. They took the train [..........] Westland Row and [..........] a few seconds, [..........] it seemed [..........] Jimmy, they were walking out [..........] Kingstown Station. The ticket-collector saluted Jimmy; he was an old man:

"Fine night, sir!"

It was a serene summer night; the harbour lay [..........] a darkened mirror [..........] their feet. They proceeded towards it [..........] linked arms, singing Cadet Roussel [..........] chorus, stamping their feet [..........] every:

"Ho! Ho! Hohé, vraiment!"

They got into a rowboat [..........] the slip and made out [..........] the American's yacht. There was [..........] be supper, music, cards. Villona said [..........] conviction:

"It is delightful!"

There was a yacht piano [..........] the cabin. Villona played a waltz [..........] Farley and Rivière, Farley acting [..........] cavalier and Rivière [..........] lady. Then an impromptu square dance, the men devising original figures. What merriment! Jimmy took his part [..........] a will; this was seeing life, [..........] least. Then Farley got out [..........] breath and cried "Stop!" A man brought [..........] a light supper, and the young men sat [..........] [..........] it [..........] form's sake. They drank, however: it was Bohemian. They drank Ireland, England, France, Hungary, the United States [..........] America. Jimmy made a speech, a long speech, Villona saying: "Hear! hear!" whenever there was a pause. There was a great clapping [..........] hands when he sat [..........] . It must have been a good speech. Farley clapped him [..........] the back and laughed loudly. What jovial fellows! What good company they were!

Cards! cards! The table was cleared. Villona returned quietly [..........] his piano and played voluntaries [..........] them. The other men played game [..........] game, flinging themselves boldly into the adventure. They drank the health [..........] the Queen [..........] Hearts and [..........] the Queen [..........] Diamonds. Jimmy felt obscurely the lack [..........] an audience: the wit was flashing. Play ran very high and paper began [..........] pass. Jimmy did not know exactly who was winning [..........] he knew that he was losing. [..........] it was his own fault [..........] he frequently mistook his cards and the other men had [..........] calculate his I.O.U.'s [..........] him. They were devils [..........] fellows [..........] he wished they would stop: it was getting late. Someone gave the toast [..........] the yacht The Belle [..........] Newport and then someone proposed one great game [..........] a finish.

The piano had stopped; Villona must have gone [..........] [..........] deck. It was a terrible game. They stopped just [..........] the end [..........] it [..........] drink [..........] luck. Jimmy understood that the game lay [..........] Routh and Ségouin. What excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose, [..........] course. How much had he written away? The men rose [..........] their feet [..........] play the last tricks. talking and gesticulating. Routh won. The cabin shook [..........] the young men's cheering and the cards were bundled together. They began then [..........] gather [..........] what they had won. Farley and Jimmy were the heaviest losers.

He knew that he would regret [..........] the morning [..........] [..........] present he was glad [..........] the rest, glad [..........] the dark stupor that would cover [..........] his folly. He leaned his elbows [..........] the table and rested his head [..........] his hands, counting the beats [..........] his temples. The cabin door opened and he saw the Hungarian standing [..........] a shaft [..........] grey light:

"Daybreak, gentlemen!"

TWO GALLANTS

THE grey warm evening [..........] August had descended upon the city and a mild warm air, a memory [..........] summer, circulated [..........] the streets. The streets, shuttered [..........] the repose [..........] Sunday, swarmed [..........] a gaily coloured crowd. [..........] illumined pearls the lamps shone [..........] the summits [..........] their tall poles upon the living texture [..........] which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent [..........] into the warm grey evening air an unchanging unceasing murmur.

Two young men came [..........] the hill [..........] Rutland Square. One [..........] them was just bringing a long monologue [..........] a close. The other, who walked [..........] the verge [..........] the path and was [..........] times obliged [..........] step [..........] [..........] the road, owing [..........] his companion's rudeness, wore an amused listening face. He was squat and ruddy. A yachting cap was shoved far back [..........] his forehead and the narrative [..........] which he listened made constant waves [..........] expression break forth [..........] his face [..........] the corners [..........] his nose and eyes and mouth. Little jets [..........] wheezing laughter followed one another out [..........] his convulsed body. His eyes, twinkling [..........] cunning enjoyment, glanced [..........] every moment towards his companion's face. Once or twice he rearranged the light waterproof which he had slung [..........] one shoulder [..........] toreador fashion. His breeches, his white rubber shoes and his jauntily slung waterproof expressed youth. [..........] his figure fell into rotundity [..........] the waist, his hair was scant and grey and his face, when the waves [..........] expression had passed [..........] it, had a ravaged look.

When he was quite sure that the narrative had ended he laughed noiselessly [..........] fully half a minute. Then he said:

"Well!... That takes the biscuit!"

His voice seemed winnowed [..........] vigour; and [..........] enforce his words he added [..........] humour:

"That takes the solitary, unique, and, if I may so call it, recherché biscuit!"

He became serious and silent when he had said this. His tongue was tired [..........] he had been talking all the afternoon [..........] a public-house [..........] Dorset Street. Most people considered Lenehan a leech [..........] , [..........] spite [..........] this reputation, his adroitness and eloquence had always prevented his friends [..........] forming any general policy [..........] him. He had a brave manner [..........] coming [..........] [..........] a party [..........] them [..........] a bar and [..........] holding himself nimbly [..........] the borders [..........] the company [..........] he was included [..........] a [..........] . He was a sporting vagrant armed [..........] a vast stock [..........] stories, limericks and riddles. He was insensitive [..........] all kinds [..........] discourtesy. No one knew how he achieved the stern task [..........] living, [..........] his name was vaguely associated [..........] racing tissues.

"And where did you pick her [..........] , Corley?" he asked.

Corley ran his tongue swiftly [..........] his upper lip.

"One night, man," he said, "I was going [..........] Dame Street and I spotted a fine tart [..........] Waterhouse's clock and said good-night, you know. So we went [..........] a walk [..........] [..........] the canal and she told me she was a slavey [..........] a house [..........] Baggot Street. I put my arm [..........] her and squeezed her a bit that night. Then next Sunday, man, I met her [..........] appointment. We went out [..........] Donnybrook and I brought her into a field there. She told me she used [..........] go [..........] a dairyman.... It was fine, man. Cigarettes every night she'd bring me and paying the tram out and back. And one night she brought me two bloody fine cigars—O, the real cheese, you know, that the old fellow used [..........] smoke.... I was afraid, man, she'd get [..........] the family way. [..........] she's [..........] [..........] the dodge."

"Maybe she thinks you'll marry her," said Lenehan.

"I told her I was out [..........] a job," said Corley. "I told her I was [..........] Pim's. She doesn't know my name. I was too hairy [..........] tell her that. [..........] she thinks I'm a bit [..........] class, you know."

Lenehan laughed again, noiselessly.

" [..........] all the good ones ever I heard," he said, "that emphatically takes the biscuit."

Corley's stride acknowledged the compliment. The swing [..........] his burly body made his friend execute a few light skips [..........] the path [..........] the roadway and back again. Corley was the son [..........] an inspector [..........] police and he had inherited his father's frame and gait. He walked [..........] his hands [..........] his sides, holding himself erect and swaying his head [..........] side [..........] side. His head was large, globular and oily; it sweated [..........] all weathers; and his large [..........] hat, set upon it sideways, looked [..........] a bulb which had grown out [..........] another. He always stared straight [..........] him [..........] if he were [..........] parade and, when he wished [..........] gaze [..........] someone [..........] the street, it was necessary [..........] him [..........] move his body [..........] the hips. [..........] present he was [..........] town. Whenever any job was vacant a friend was always ready [..........] give him the hard word. He was often [..........] be seen walking [..........] policemen [..........] plain clothes, talking earnestly. He knew the inner side [..........] all affairs and was fond [..........] delivering final judgments. He spoke without listening [..........] the speech [..........] his companions. His conversation was mainly [..........] himself: what he had said [..........] such a person and what such a person had said [..........] him and what he had said [..........] settle the matter. When he reported these dialogues he aspirated the first letter [..........] his name [..........] the manner [..........] Florentines.

Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. [..........] the two young men walked [..........] [..........] the crowd Corley occasionally turned [..........] smile [..........] some [..........] the passing girls [..........] Lenehan's gaze was fixed [..........] the large faint moon circled [..........] a double halo. He watched earnestly the passing [..........] the grey web [..........] twilight [..........] its face. [..........] length he said:

"Well ... tell me, Corley, I suppose you'll be able [..........] pull it off all right, eh?"

Corley closed one eye expressively [..........] an answer.

"Is she game [..........] that?" asked Lenehan dubiously. "You can never know women."

"She's all right," said Corley. "I know the way [..........] get [..........] her, man. She's a bit gone [..........] me."

"You're what I call a gay Lothario," said Lenehan. "And the proper kind [..........] a Lothario, too!"

A shade [..........] mockery relieved the servility [..........] his manner. [..........] [..........] himself he had the habit [..........] leaving his flattery open [..........] the interpretation [..........] raillery. [..........] Corley had not a subtle mind.

"There's nothing [..........] touch a good slavey," he affirmed. "Take my tip [..........] it."

" [..........] one who has tried them all," said Lenehan.

"First I used [..........] go [..........] girls, you know," said Corley, unbosoming; "girls off the South Circular. I used [..........] take them out, man, [..........] the tram somewhere and pay the tram or take them [..........] a band or a play [..........] the theatre or buy them chocolate and sweets or something that way. I used [..........] spend money [..........] them right enough," he added, [..........] a convincing tone, [..........] if he was conscious [..........] being disbelieved.

[..........] Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely.

"I know that game," he said, "and it's a mug's game."

"And damn the thing I ever got out [..........] it," said Corley.

"Ditto here," said Lenehan.

"Only off [..........] one [..........] them," said Corley.

He moistened his upper lip [..........] running his tongue [..........] it. The recollection brightened his eyes. He too gazed [..........] the pale disc [..........] the moon, now nearly veiled, and seemed [..........] meditate.

"She was ... a bit [..........] all right," he said regretfully.

He was silent again. Then he added:

"She's [..........] the turf now. I saw her driving [..........] Earl Street one night [..........] two fellows [..........] her [..........] a car."

"I suppose that's your doing," said Lenehan.

"There was others [..........] her [..........] me," said Corley philosophically.

This time Lenehan was inclined [..........] disbelieve. He shook his head [..........] and fro and smiled.

"You know you can't kid me, Corley," he said.

"Honest [..........] God!" said Corley. "Didn't she tell me herself?"

Lenehan made a tragic gesture.

"Base betrayer!" he said.

[..........] they passed [..........] the railings [..........] Trinity College, Lenehan skipped out into the road and peered [..........] [..........] the clock.

"Twenty [..........] ," he said.

"Time enough," said Corley. "She'll be there all right. I always let her wait a bit."

Lenehan laughed quietly.

"Ecod! Corley, you know how [..........] take them," he said.

"I'm [..........] [..........] all their little tricks," Corley confessed.

" [..........] tell me," said Lenehan again, "are you sure you can bring it off all right? You know it's a ticklish job. They're damn close [..........] that point. Eh?... What?"

His bright, small eyes searched his companion's face [..........] reassurance. Corley swung his head [..........] and fro [..........] if [..........] toss aside an insistent insect, and his brows gathered.

"I'll pull it off," he said. "Leave it [..........] me, can't you?"

Lenehan said no more. He did not wish [..........] ruffle his friend's temper, [..........] be sent [..........] the devil and told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary. [..........] Corley's brow was soon smooth again. His thoughts were running another way.

"She's a fine decent tart," he said, [..........] appreciation; "that's what she is."

They walked [..........] Nassau Street and then turned into Kildare Street. Not far [..........] the porch [..........] the club a harpist stood [..........] the roadway, playing [..........] a little ring [..........] listeners. He plucked [..........] the wires heedlessly, glancing quickly [..........] time [..........] time [..........] the face [..........] each new-comer and [..........] time [..........] time, wearily also, [..........] the sky. His harp, too, heedless that her coverings had fallen [..........] her knees, seemed weary alike [..........] the eyes [..........] strangers and [..........] her master's hands. One hand played [..........] the bass the melody [..........] Silent, O Moyle, while the other hand careered [..........] the treble [..........] each group [..........] notes. The notes [..........] the air sounded deep and full.

The two young men walked [..........] the street without speaking, the mournful music [..........] them. When they reached Stephen's Green they crossed the road. Here the noise [..........] trams, the lights and the crowd released them [..........] their silence.

"There she is!" said Corley.

[..........] the corner [..........] Hume Street a young woman was standing. She wore a blue dress and a white sailor hat. She stood [..........] the curbstone, swinging a sunshade [..........] one hand. Lenehan grew lively.

"Let's have a look [..........] her, Corley," he said.

Corley glanced sideways [..........] his friend and an unpleasant grin appeared [..........] his face.

"Are you trying [..........] get inside me?" he asked.

"Damn it!" said Lenehan boldly, "I don't want an introduction. All I want is [..........] have a look [..........] her. I'm not going [..........] eat her."

"O.... A look [..........] her?" said Corley, more amiably. "Well ... I'll tell you what. I'll go [..........] and talk [..........] her and you can pass [..........] ."

"Right!" said Lenehan.

Corley had already thrown one leg [..........] the chains when Lenehan called out:

"And [..........] ? Where will we meet?"

"Half ten," answered Corley, bringing [..........] his other leg.

"Where?"

"Corner [..........] Merrion Street. We'll be coming back."

"Work it all right now," said Lenehan [..........] farewell.

Corley did not answer. He sauntered [..........] the road swaying his head [..........] side [..........] side. His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound [..........] his boots had something [..........] the conqueror [..........] them. He approached the young woman and, without saluting, began [..........] once [..........] converse [..........] her. She swung her umbrella more quickly and executed half turns [..........] her heels. Once or twice when he spoke [..........] her [..........] close quarters she laughed and bent her head.

Lenehan observed them [..........] a few minutes. Then he walked rapidly [..........] [..........] the chains [..........] some distance and crossed the road obliquely. [..........] he approached Hume Street corner he found the air heavily scented and his eyes made a swift anxious scrutiny [..........] the young woman's appearance. She had her Sunday finery [..........] . Her blue serge skirt was held [..........] the waist [..........] a belt [..........] black leather. The great silver buckle [..........] her belt seemed [..........] depress the centre [..........] her body, catching the light stuff [..........] her white blouse [..........] a clip. She wore a short black jacket [..........] mother- [..........] -pearl buttons and a ragged black boa. The ends [..........] her tulle collarette had been carefully disordered and a big bunch [..........] red flowers was pinned [..........] her bosom, stems upwards. Lenehan's eyes noted approvingly her stout short muscular body. Frank rude health glowed [..........] her face, [..........] her fat red cheeks and [..........] her unabashed blue eyes. Her features were blunt. She had broad nostrils, a straggling mouth which lay open [..........] a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth. [..........] he passed Lenehan took off his cap and, [..........] [..........] ten seconds, Corley returned a salute [..........] the air. This he did [..........] raising his hand vaguely and pensively changing the angle [..........] position [..........] his hat.

Lenehan walked [..........] far [..........] the Shelbourne Hotel where he halted and waited. [..........] waiting [..........] a little time he saw them coming towards him and, when they turned [..........] the right, he followed them, stepping lightly [..........] his white shoes, [..........] one side [..........] Merrion Square. [..........] he walked [..........] slowly, timing his pace [..........] theirs, he watched Corley's head which turned [..........] every moment towards the young woman's face [..........] a big ball revolving [..........] a pivot. He kept the pair [..........] view [..........] he had seen them climbing the stairs [..........] the Donnybrook tram; then he turned [..........] and went back the way he had come.

Now that he was alone his face looked older. His gaiety seemed [..........] forsake him and, [..........] he came [..........] the railings [..........] the Duke's Lawn, he allowed his hand [..........] run [..........] them. The air which the harpist had played began [..........] control his movements. His softly padded feet played the melody while his fingers swept a scale [..........] variations idly [..........] the railings [..........] each group [..........] notes.

He walked listlessly [..........] Stephen's Green and then [..........] Grafton Street. Though his eyes took note [..........] many elements [..........] the crowd [..........] which he passed they did so morosely. He found trivial all that was meant [..........] charm him and did not answer the glances which invited him [..........] be bold. He knew that he would have [..........] speak a great deal, [..........] invent and [..........] amuse, and his brain and throat were too dry [..........] such a task. The problem [..........] how he could pass the hours till he met Corley again troubled him a little. He could think [..........] no way [..........] passing them [..........] [..........] keep [..........] walking. He turned [..........] the left when he came [..........] the corner [..........] Rutland Square and felt more [..........] ease [..........] the dark quiet street, the sombre look [..........] which suited his mood. He paused [..........] last [..........] the window [..........] a poor-looking shop [..........] which the words Refreshment Bar were printed [..........] white letters. [..........] the glass [..........] the window were two flying inscriptions: Ginger Beer and Ginger Ale. A cut ham was exposed [..........] a great blue dish while [..........] it [..........] a plate lay a segment [..........] very light plum-pudding. He eyed this food earnestly [..........] some time and then, [..........] glancing warily [..........] and [..........] the street, went into the shop quickly.

He was hungry [..........] , [..........] some biscuits which he had asked two grudging curates [..........] bring him, he had eaten nothing [..........] breakfast-time. He sat [..........] [..........] an uncovered wooden table [..........] two work-girls and a mechanic. A slatternly girl waited [..........] him.

"How much is a plate [..........] peas?" he asked.

"Three halfpence, sir," said the girl.

"Bring me a plate [..........] peas," he said, "and a bottle [..........] ginger beer."

He spoke roughly [..........] order [..........] belie his air [..........] gentility [..........] his entry had been followed [..........] a pause [..........] talk. His face was heated. [..........] appear natural he pushed his cap back [..........] his head and planted his elbows [..........] the table. The mechanic and the two work-girls examined him point [..........] point [..........] resuming their conversation [..........] a subdued voice. The girl brought him a plate [..........] grocer's hot peas, seasoned [..........] pepper and vinegar, a fork and his ginger beer. He ate his food greedily and found it so good that he made a note [..........] the shop mentally. When he had eaten all the peas he sipped his ginger beer and sat [..........] some time thinking [..........] Corley's adventure. [..........] his imagination he beheld the pair [..........] lovers walking [..........] some dark road; he heard Corley's voice [..........] deep energetic gallantries and saw again the leer [..........] the young woman's mouth. This vision made him feel keenly his own poverty [..........] purse and spirit. He was tired [..........] knocking [..........] , [..........] pulling the devil [..........] the tail, [..........] shifts and intrigues. He would be thirty-one [..........] November. Would he never get a good job? Would he never have a home [..........] his own? He thought how pleasant it would be [..........] have a warm fire [..........] sit [..........] and a good dinner [..........] sit [..........] [..........] . He had walked the streets long enough [..........] friends and [..........] girls. He knew what those friends were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had embittered his heart [..........] the world. [..........] all hope had not left him. He felt better [..........] having eaten [..........] he had felt [..........] , less weary [..........] his life, less vanquished [..........] spirit. He might yet be able [..........] settle [..........] [..........] some snug corner and live happily if he could only come [..........] some good simple-minded girl [..........] a little [..........] the ready.

He paid twopence halfpenny [..........] the slatternly girl and went out [..........] the shop [..........] begin his wandering again. He went into Capel Street and walked [..........] towards the City Hall. Then he turned into Dame Street. [..........] the corner [..........] George's Street he met two friends [..........] his and stopped [..........] converse [..........] them. He was glad that he could rest [..........] all his walking. His friends asked him had he seen Corley and what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day [..........] Corley. His friends talked very little. They looked vacantly [..........] some figures [..........] the crowd and sometimes made a critical remark. One said that he had seen Mac an hour [..........] [..........] Westmoreland Street. [..........] this Lenehan said that he had been [..........] Mac the night [..........] [..........] Egan's. The young man who had seen Mac [..........] Westmoreland Street asked was it true that Mac had won a bit [..........] a billiard match. Lenehan did not know: he said that Holohan had stood them drinks [..........] Egan's.

He left his friends [..........] a quarter [..........] ten and went [..........] George's Street. He turned [..........] the left [..........] the City Markets and walked [..........] into Grafton Street. The crowd [..........] girls and young men had thinned and [..........] his way [..........] the street he heard many groups and couples bidding one another good-night. He went [..........] far [..........] the clock [..........] the College [..........] Surgeons: it was [..........] the stroke [..........] ten. He set off briskly [..........] the northern side [..........] the Green hurrying [..........] fear Corley should return too soon. When he reached the corner [..........] Merrion Street he took his stand [..........] the shadow [..........] a lamp and brought out one [..........] the cigarettes which he had reserved and lit it. He leaned [..........] the lamp-post and kept his gaze fixed [..........] the part [..........] which he expected [..........] see Corley and the young woman return.

His mind became active again. He wondered had Corley managed it successfully. He wondered if he had asked her yet or if he would leave it [..........] the last. He suffered all the pangs and thrills [..........] his friend's situation [..........] well [..........] those [..........] his own. [..........] the memory [..........] Corley's slowly revolving head calmed him somewhat: he was sure Corley would pull it off all right. All [..........] once the idea struck him that perhaps Corley had seen her home [..........] another way and given him the slip. His eyes searched the street: there was no sign [..........] them. Yet it was surely half-an-hour [..........] he had seen the clock [..........] the College [..........] Surgeons. Would Corley do a thing [..........] that? He lit his last cigarette and began [..........] smoke it nervously. He strained his eyes [..........] each tram stopped [..........] the far corner [..........] the square. They must have gone home [..........] another way. The paper [..........] his cigarette broke and he flung it into the road [..........] a curse.

Suddenly he saw them coming towards him. He started [..........] delight and, keeping close [..........] his lamp-post, tried [..........] read the result [..........] their walk. They were walking quickly, the young woman taking quick short steps, while Corley kept [..........] her [..........] his long stride. They did not seem [..........] be speaking. An intimation [..........] the result pricked him [..........] the point [..........] a sharp instrument. He knew Corley would fail; he knew it was no go.

They turned [..........] Baggot Street and he followed them [..........] once, taking the other footpath. When they stopped he stopped too. They talked [..........] a few moments and then the young woman went [..........] the steps into the area [..........] a house. Corley remained standing [..........] the edge [..........] the path, a little distance [..........] the front steps. Some minutes passed. Then the hall-door was opened slowly and cautiously. A woman came running [..........] the front steps and coughed. Corley turned and went towards her. His broad figure hid hers [..........] view [..........] a few seconds and then she reappeared running [..........] the steps. The door closed [..........] her and Corley began [..........] walk swiftly towards Stephen's Green.

Lenehan hurried [..........] [..........] the same direction. Some drops [..........] light rain fell. He took them [..........] a warning and, glancing back towards the house which the young woman had entered [..........] see that he was not observed, he ran eagerly [..........] the road. Anxiety and his swift run made him pant. He called out:

"Hallo, Corley!"

Corley turned his head [..........] see who had called him, and then continued walking [..........] [..........] . Lenehan ran [..........] him, settling the waterproof [..........] his shoulders [..........] one hand.

"Hallo, Corley!" he cried again.

He came level [..........] his friend and looked keenly [..........] his face. He could see nothing there.

"Well?" he said. "Did it come off?"

They had reached the corner [..........] Ely Place. Still without answering, Corley swerved [..........] the left and went [..........] the side street. His features were composed [..........] stern calm. Lenehan kept [..........] [..........] his friend, breathing uneasily. He was baffled and a note [..........] menace pierced [..........] his voice.

"Can't you tell us?" he said. "Did you try her?"

Corley halted [..........] the first lamp and stared grimly [..........] him. Then [..........] a grave gesture he extended a hand towards the light and, smiling, opened it slowly [..........] the gaze [..........] his disciple. A small gold coin shone [..........] the palm.

THE BOARDING HOUSE

MRS MOONEY was a butcher's daughter. She was a woman who was quite able [..........] keep things [..........] herself: a determined woman. She had married her father's foreman and opened a butcher's shop [..........] Spring Gardens. [..........] [..........] soon [..........] his father- [..........] -law was dead Mr Mooney began [..........] go [..........] the devil. He drank, plundered the till, ran headlong into debt. It was no use making him take the pledge: he was sure [..........] break out again a few days [..........] . [..........] fighting his wife [..........] the presence [..........] customers and [..........] buying bad meat he ruined his business. One night he went [..........] his wife [..........] the cleaver and she had [..........] sleep [..........] a neighbour's house.

[..........] that they lived apart. She went [..........] the priest and got a separation [..........] him [..........] care [..........] the children. She would give him neither money nor food nor house-room; and so he was obliged [..........] enlist himself [..........] a sheriff's man. He was a shabby stooped little drunkard [..........] a white face and a white moustache and white eyebrows, pencilled [..........] his little eyes, which were pink-veined and raw; and all day long he sat [..........] the bailiff's room, waiting [..........] be put [..........] a job. Mrs Mooney, who had taken what remained [..........] her money out [..........] the butcher business and set [..........] a boarding house [..........] Hardwicke Street, was a big imposing woman. Her house had a floating population made [..........] [..........] tourists [..........] Liverpool and the Isle [..........] Man and, occasionally, artistes [..........] the music-halls. Its resident population was made [..........] [..........] clerks [..........] the city. She governed her house cunningly and firmly, knew when [..........] give credit, when [..........] be stern and when [..........] let things pass. All the resident young men spoke [..........] her [..........] The Madam.

Mrs Mooney's young men paid fifteen shillings a week [..........] board and lodgings (beer or stout [..........] dinner excluded). They shared [..........] common tastes and occupations and [..........] this reason they were very chummy [..........] one another. They discussed [..........] one another the chances [..........] favourites and outsiders. Jack Mooney, the Madam's son, who was clerk [..........] a commission agent [..........] Fleet Street, had the reputation [..........] being a hard case. He was fond [..........] using soldiers' obscenities: usually he came home [..........] the small hours. When he met his friends he had always a good one [..........] tell them and he was always sure [..........] be [..........] [..........] a good thing—that is [..........] say, a likely horse or a likely artiste. He was also handy [..........] the mits and sang comic songs. [..........] Sunday nights there would often be a reunion [..........] Mrs Mooney's front drawing-room. The music-hall artistes would oblige; and Sheridan played waltzes and polkas and vamped accompaniments. Polly Mooney, the Madam's daughter, would also sing. She sang:

           I'm a ... naughty girl.
             You needn't sham:
             You know I am.

Polly was a slim girl [..........] nineteen; she had light soft hair and a small full mouth. Her eyes, which were grey [..........] a shade [..........] green [..........] them, had a habit [..........] glancing upwards when she spoke [..........] anyone, which made her look [..........] a little perverse madonna. Mrs Mooney had first sent her daughter [..........] be a typist [..........] a corn-factor's office [..........] , [..........] a disreputable sheriff's man used [..........] come every other day [..........] the office, asking [..........] be allowed [..........] say a word [..........] his daughter, she had taken her daughter home again and set her [..........] do housework. [..........] Polly was very lively the intention was [..........] give her the run [..........] the young men. Besides, young men [..........] [..........] feel that there is a young woman not very far away. Polly, [..........] course, flirted [..........] the young men [..........] Mrs Mooney, who was a shrewd judge, knew that the young men were only passing the time away: none [..........] them meant business. Things went [..........] so [..........] a long time and Mrs Mooney began [..........] think [..........] sending Polly back [..........] typewriting when she noticed that something was going [..........] [..........] Polly and one [..........] the young men. She watched the pair and kept her own counsel.

Polly knew that she was being watched, [..........] still her mother's persistent silence could not be misunderstood. There had been no open complicity [..........] mother and daughter, no open understanding [..........] , though people [..........] the house began [..........] talk [..........] the affair, still Mrs Mooney did not intervene. Polly began [..........] grow a little strange [..........] her manner and the young man was evidently perturbed. [..........] last, when she judged it [..........] be the right moment, Mrs Mooney intervened. She dealt [..........] moral problems [..........] a cleaver deals [..........] meat: and [..........] this case she had made [..........] her mind.

It was a bright Sunday morning [..........] early summer, promising heat, [..........] [..........] a fresh breeze blowing. All the windows [..........] the boarding house were open and the lace curtains ballooned gently towards the street [..........] the raised sashes. The belfry [..........] George's Church sent out constant peals and worshippers, singly or [..........] groups, traversed the little circus [..........] the church, revealing their purpose [..........] their self-contained demeanour no less [..........] [..........] the little volumes [..........] their gloved hands. Breakfast was [..........] [..........] the boarding house and the table [..........] the breakfast-room was covered [..........] plates [..........] which lay yellow streaks [..........] eggs [..........] morsels [..........] bacon-fat and bacon-rind. Mrs Mooney sat [..........] the straw arm-chair and watched the servant Mary remove the breakfast things. She made Mary collect the crusts and pieces [..........] broken bread [..........] help [..........] make Tuesday's bread-pudding. When the table was cleared, the broken bread collected, the sugar and butter safe [..........] lock and key, she began [..........] reconstruct the interview which she had had the night [..........] [..........] Polly. Things were [..........] she had suspected: she had been frank [..........] her questions and Polly had been frank [..........] her answers. Both had been somewhat awkward, [..........] course. She had been made awkward [..........] her not wishing [..........] receive the news [..........] too cavalier a fashion or [..........] seem [..........] have connived and Polly had been made awkward not merely because allusions [..........] that kind always made her awkward [..........] also because she did not wish it [..........] be thought that [..........] her wise innocence she had divined the intention [..........] her mother's tolerance.

Mrs Mooney glanced instinctively [..........] the little gilt clock [..........] the mantelpiece [..........] soon [..........] she had become aware [..........] her revery that the bells [..........] George's Church had stopped ringing. It was seventeen minutes [..........] eleven: she would have lots [..........] time [..........] have the matter out [..........] Mr Doran and then catch short twelve [..........] Marlborough Street. She was sure she would win. [..........] begin [..........] she had all the weight [..........] social opinion [..........] her side: she was an outraged mother. She had allowed him [..........] live [..........] her roof, assuming that he was a man [..........] honour, and he had simply abused her hospitality. He was thirty-four or thirty-five years [..........] age, so that youth could not be pleaded [..........] his excuse; nor could ignorance be his excuse [..........] he was a man who had seen something [..........] the world. He had simply taken advantage [..........] Polly's youth and inexperience: that was evident. The question was: What reparation would he make?

There must be reparation made [..........] such cases. It is all very well [..........] the man: he can go his ways [..........] if nothing had happened, having had his moment [..........] pleasure, [..........] the girl has [..........] bear the brunt. Some mothers would be content [..........] patch [..........] such an affair [..........] a sum [..........] money; she had known cases [..........] it. [..........] she would not do so. [..........] her only one reparation could make [..........] [..........] the loss [..........] her daughter's honour: marriage.

She counted all her cards again [..........] sending Mary [..........] [..........] Mr Doran's room [..........] say that she wished [..........] speak [..........] him. She felt sure she would win. He was a serious young man, not rakish or loud-voiced [..........] the others. If it had been Mr Sheridan or Mr Meade or Bantam Lyons her task would have been much harder. She did not think he would face publicity. All the lodgers [..........] the house knew something [..........] the affair; details had been invented [..........] some. Besides, he had been employed [..........] thirteen years [..........] a great Catholic wine-merchant's office and publicity would mean [..........] him, perhaps, the loss [..........] his job. Whereas if he agreed all might be well. She knew he had a good screw [..........] one thing and she suspected he had a bit [..........] stuff put [..........] .

Nearly the half-hour! She stood [..........] and surveyed herself [..........] the pier-glass. The decisive expression [..........] her great florid face satisfied her and she thought [..........] some mothers she knew who could not get their daughters off their hands.

Mr Doran was very anxious indeed this Sunday morning. He had made two attempts [..........] shave [..........] his hand had been so unsteady that he had been obliged [..........] desist. Three days' reddish beard fringed his jaws and every two or three minutes a mist gathered [..........] his glasses so that he had [..........] take them off and polish them [..........] his pocket-handkerchief. The recollection [..........] his confession [..........] the night [..........] was a cause [..........] acute pain [..........] him; the priest had drawn out every ridiculous detail [..........] the affair and [..........] the end had so magnified his sin that he was almost thankful [..........] being afforded a loophole [..........] reparation. The harm was done. What could he do now [..........] marry her or run away? He could not brazen it out. The affair would be sure [..........] be talked [..........] and his employer would be certain [..........] hear [..........] it. Dublin is such a small city: everyone knows everyone else's business. He felt his heart leap warmly [..........] his throat [..........] he heard [..........] his excited imagination old Mr Leonard calling out [..........] his rasping voice: "Send Mr Doran here, please."

All his long years [..........] service gone [..........] nothing! All his industry and diligence thrown away! [..........] a young man he had sown his wild oats, [..........] course; he had boasted [..........] his free-thinking and denied the existence [..........] God [..........] his companions [..........] public-houses. [..........] that was all passed and done [..........] ... nearly. He still bought a copy [..........] Reynolds's Newspaper every week [..........] he attended [..........] his religious duties and [..........] nine-tenths [..........] the year lived a regular life. He had money enough [..........] settle [..........] [..........] ; it was not that. [..........] the family would look [..........] [..........] her. First [..........] all there was her disreputable father and then her mother's boarding house was beginning [..........] get a certain fame. He had a notion that he was being had. He could imagine his friends talking [..........] the affair and laughing. She was a little vulgar; sometimes she said "I seen" and "If I had've known." [..........] what would grammar matter if he really loved her? He could not make [..........] his mind whether [..........] [..........] her or despise her [..........] what she had done. [..........] course he had done it too. His instinct urged him [..........] remain free, not [..........] marry. Once you are married you are done [..........] , it said.

While he was sitting helplessly [..........] the side [..........] the bed [..........] shirt and trousers she tapped lightly [..........] his door and entered. She told him all, that she had made a clean breast [..........] it [..........] her mother and that her mother would speak [..........] him that morning. She cried and threw her arms [..........] his neck, saying:

"O Bob! Bob! What am I [..........] do? What am I [..........] do [..........] all?"

She would put an end [..........] herself, she said.

He comforted her feebly, telling her not [..........] cry, that it would be all right, never fear. He felt [..........] his shirt the agitation [..........] her bosom.

It was not altogether his fault that it had happened. He remembered well, [..........] the curious patient memory [..........] the celibate, the first casual caresses her dress, her breath, her fingers had given him. Then late one night [..........] he was undressing [..........] bed she had tapped [..........] his door, timidly. She wanted [..........] relight her candle [..........] his [..........] hers had been blown out [..........] a gust. It was her bath night. She wore a loose open combing-jacket [..........] printed flannel. Her white instep shone [..........] the opening [..........] her furry slippers and the blood glowed warmly [..........] her perfumed skin. [..........] her hands and wrists too [..........] she lit and steadied her candle a faint perfume arose.

[..........] nights when he came [..........] very late it was she who warmed [..........] his dinner. He scarcely knew what he was eating, feeling her [..........] him alone, [..........] night, [..........] the sleeping house. And her thoughtfulness! If the night was anyway cold or wet or windy there was sure [..........] be a little tumbler [..........] punch ready [..........] him. Perhaps they could be happy together....

They used [..........] go upstairs together [..........] tiptoe, each [..........] a candle, and [..........] the third landing exchange reluctant good-nights. They used [..........] kiss. He remembered well her eyes, the touch [..........] her hand and his delirium....

[..........] delirium passes. He echoed her phrase, applying it [..........] himself: "What am I [..........] do?" The instinct [..........] the celibate warned him [..........] hold back. [..........] the sin was there; even his sense [..........] honour told him that reparation must be made [..........] such a sin.

While he was sitting [..........] her [..........] the side [..........] the bed Mary came [..........] the door and said that the missus wanted [..........] see him [..........] the parlour. He stood [..........] [..........] put [..........] his coat and waistcoat, more helpless [..........] ever. When he was dressed he went [..........] [..........] her [..........] comfort her. It would be all right, never fear. He left her crying [..........] the bed and moaning softly: "O my God!"

Going [..........] the stairs his glasses became so dimmed [..........] moisture that he had [..........] take them off and polish them. He longed [..........] ascend [..........] the roof and fly away [..........] another country where he would never hear again [..........] his trouble, and yet a force pushed him downstairs step [..........] step. The implacable faces [..........] his employer and [..........] the Madam stared upon his discomfiture. [..........] the last flight [..........] stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming [..........] [..........] the pantry nursing two bottles [..........] Bass. They saluted coldly; and the lover's eyes rested [..........] a second or two [..........] a thick bulldog face and a pair [..........] thick short arms. When he reached the foot [..........] the staircase he glanced [..........] and saw Jack [..........] him [..........] the door [..........] the return-room.

Suddenly he remembered the night when one [..........] the music-hall artistes, a little blond Londoner, had made a rather free allusion [..........] Polly. The reunion had been almost broken [..........] [..........] account [..........] Jack's violence. Everyone tried [..........] quiet him. The music-hall artiste, a little paler [..........] usual, kept smiling and saying that there was no harm meant: [..........] Jack kept shouting [..........] him that if any fellow tried that sort [..........] a game [..........] [..........] his sister he'd bloody well put his teeth [..........] his throat, so he would.

Polly sat [..........] a little time [..........] the side [..........] the bed, crying. Then she dried her eyes and went [..........] [..........] the looking-glass. She dipped the end [..........] the towel [..........] the water-jug and refreshed her eyes [..........] the cool water. She looked [..........] herself [..........] profile and readjusted a hairpin [..........] her ear. Then she went back [..........] the bed again and sat [..........] the foot. She regarded the pillows [..........] a long time and the sight [..........] them awakened [..........] her mind secret amiable memories. She rested the nape [..........] her neck [..........] the cool iron bed-rail and fell into a reverie. There was no longer any perturbation visible [..........] her face.

She waited [..........] patiently, almost cheerfully, without alarm, her memories gradually giving place [..........] hopes and visions [..........] the future. Her hopes and visions were so intricate that she no longer saw the white pillows [..........] which her gaze was fixed or remembered that she was waiting [..........] anything.

[..........] last she heard her mother calling. She started [..........] her feet and ran [..........] the banisters.

"Polly! Polly!"

"Yes, mamma?"

"Come [..........] , dear. Mr Doran wants [..........] speak [..........] you."

Then she remembered what she had been waiting [..........] .

A LITTLE CLOUD

EIGHT years [..........] he had seen his friend off [..........] the North Wall and wished him godspeed. Gallaher had got [..........] . You could tell that [..........] once [..........] his travelled air, his well-cut tweed suit, and fearless accent. Few fellows had talents [..........] his and fewer still could remain unspoiled [..........] such success. Gallaher's heart was [..........] the right place and he had deserved [..........] win. It was something [..........] have a friend [..........] that.

Little Chandler's thoughts ever [..........] lunch-time had been [..........] his meeting [..........] Gallaher, [..........] Gallaher's invitation and [..........] the great city London where Gallaher lived. He was called Little Chandler because, though he was [..........] slightly [..........] the average stature, he gave one the idea [..........] being a little man. His hands were white and small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manners were refined. He took the greatest care [..........] his fair silken hair and moustache and used perfume discreetly [..........] his handkerchief. The half-moons [..........] his nails were perfect and when he smiled you caught a glimpse [..........] a row [..........] childish white teeth.

[..........] he sat [..........] his desk [..........] the King's Inns he thought what changes those eight years had brought. The friend whom he had known [..........] a shabby and necessitous guise had become a brilliant figure [..........] the London Press. He turned often [..........] his tiresome writing [..........] gaze out [..........] the office window. The glow [..........] a late autumn sunset covered the grass plots and walks. It cast a shower [..........] kindly golden dust [..........] the untidy nurses and decrepit old men who drowsed [..........] the benches; it flickered upon all the moving figures— [..........] the children who ran screaming [..........] the gravel paths and [..........] everyone who passed [..........] the gardens. He watched the scene and thought [..........] life; and ( [..........] always happened when he thought [..........] life) he became sad. A gentle melancholy took possession [..........] him. He felt how useless it was [..........] struggle [..........] fortune, this being the burden [..........] wisdom which the ages had bequeathed [..........] him.

He remembered the books [..........] poetry upon his shelves [..........] home. He had bought them [..........] his bachelor days and many an evening, [..........] he sat [..........] the little room off the hall, he had been tempted [..........] take one [..........] [..........] the bookshelf and read out something [..........] his wife. [..........] shyness had always held him back; and so the books had remained [..........] their shelves. [..........] times he repeated lines [..........] himself and this consoled him.

When his hour had struck he stood [..........] and took leave [..........] his desk and [..........] his fellow-clerks punctiliously. He emerged [..........] [..........] the feudal arch [..........] the King's Inns, a neat modest figure, and walked swiftly [..........] Henrietta Street. The golden sunset was waning and the air had grown sharp. A horde [..........] grimy children populated the street. They stood or ran [..........] the roadway or crawled [..........] the steps [..........] the gaping doors or squatted [..........] mice upon the thresholds. Little Chandler gave them no thought. He picked his way deftly [..........] all that minute vermin- [..........] life and [..........] the shadow [..........] the gaunt spectral mansions [..........] which the old nobility [..........] Dublin had roystered. No memory [..........] the [..........] touched him, [..........] his mind was full [..........] a present joy.

He had never been [..........] Corless's [..........] he knew the value [..........] the name. He knew that people went there [..........] the theatre [..........] eat oysters and drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke French and German. Walking swiftly [..........] [..........] night he had seen cabs drawn [..........] [..........] the door and richly dressed ladies, escorted [..........] cavaliers, alight and enter quickly. They wore noisy dresses and many wraps. Their faces were powdered and they caught [..........] their dresses, when they touched earth, [..........] alarmed Atalantas. He had always passed without turning his head [..........] look. It was his habit [..........] walk swiftly [..........] the street even [..........] day and whenever he found himself [..........] the city late [..........] night he hurried [..........] his way apprehensively and excitedly. Sometimes, however, he courted the causes [..........] his fear. He chose the darkest and narrowest streets and, [..........] he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread [..........] his footsteps troubled him, the wandering silent figures troubled him; and [..........] times a sound [..........] low fugitive laughter made him tremble [..........] a leaf.

He turned [..........] the right towards Capel Street. Ignatius Gallaher [..........] the London Press! Who would have thought it possible eight years [..........] ? Still, now that he reviewed the [..........] , Little Chandler could remember many signs [..........] future greatness [..........] his friend. People used [..........] say that Ignatius Gallaher was wild. [..........] course, he did mix [..........] a rakish set [..........] fellows [..........] that time, drank freely and borrowed money [..........] all sides. [..........] the end he had got mixed [..........] [..........] some shady affair, some money transaction: [..........] least, that was one version [..........] his flight. [..........] nobody denied him talent. There was always a certain ... something [..........] Ignatius Gallaher that impressed you [..........] spite [..........] yourself. Even when he was out [..........] elbows and [..........] his wits' end [..........] money he kept [..........] a bold face. Little Chandler remembered (and the remembrance brought a slight flush [..........] pride [..........] his cheek) one [..........] Ignatius Gallaher's sayings when he was [..........] a tight corner:

"Half time now, boys," he used [..........] say light-heartedly. "Where's my [..........] cap?"

That was Ignatius Gallaher all out; and, damn it, you couldn't [..........] admire him [..........] it.

Little Chandler quickened his pace. [..........] the first time [..........] his life he felt himself superior [..........] the people he passed. [..........] the first time his soul revolted [..........] the dull inelegance [..........] Capel Street. There was no doubt [..........] it: if you wanted [..........] succeed you had [..........] go away. You could do nothing [..........] Dublin. [..........] he crossed Grattan Bridge he looked [..........] the river towards the lower quays and pitied the poor stunted houses. They seemed [..........] him a band [..........] tramps, huddled together [..........] the riverbanks, their old coats covered [..........] dust and soot, stupefied [..........] the panorama [..........] sunset and waiting [..........] the first chill [..........] night bid them arise, shake themselves and begone. He wondered whether he could write a poem [..........] express his idea. Perhaps Gallaher might be able [..........] get it into some London paper [..........] him. Could he write something original? He was not sure what idea he wished [..........] express [..........] the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him [..........] an infant hope. He stepped onward bravely.

Every step brought him nearer [..........] London, farther [..........] his own sober inartistic life. A light began [..........] tremble [..........] the horizon [..........] his mind. He was not so old—thirty-two. His temperament might be said [..........] be just [..........] the point [..........] maturity. There were so many different moods and impressions that he wished [..........] express [..........] verse. He felt them within him. He tried [..........] weigh his soul [..........] see if it was a poet's soul. Melancholy was the dominant note [..........] his temperament, he thought, [..........] it was a melancholy tempered [..........] recurrences [..........] faith and resignation and simple joy. If he could give expression [..........] it [..........] a book [..........] poems perhaps men would listen. He would never be popular: he saw that. He could not sway the crowd [..........] he might appeal [..........] a little circle [..........] kindred minds. The English critics, perhaps, would recognise him [..........] one [..........] the Celtic school [..........] reason [..........] the melancholy tone [..........] his poems; besides that, he would put [..........] allusions. He began [..........] invent sentences and phrases [..........] the notice which his book would get. "Mr Chandler has the gift [..........] easy and graceful verse." ... "A wistful sadness pervades these poems." ... "The Celtic note." It was a pity his name was not more Irish-looking. Perhaps it would be better [..........] insert his mother's name [..........] the surname: Thomas Malone Chandler, or better still: T. Malone Chandler. He would speak [..........] Gallaher [..........] it.

He pursued his revery so ardently that he passed his street and had [..........] turn back. [..........] he came [..........] Corless's his former agitation began [..........] overmaster him and he halted [..........] the door [..........] indecision. Finally he opened the door and entered.

The light and noise [..........] the bar held him [..........] the doorways [..........] a few moments. He looked [..........] him, [..........] his sight was confused [..........] the shining [..........] many red and green wine-glasses The bar seemed [..........] him [..........] be full [..........] people and he felt that the people were observing him curiously. He glanced quickly [..........] right and left (frowning slightly [..........] make his errand appear serious), [..........] when his sight cleared a little he saw that nobody had turned [..........] look [..........] him: and there, sure enough, was Ignatius Gallaher leaning [..........] his back [..........] the counter and his feet planted far apart.

"Hallo, Tommy, old hero, here you are! What is it [..........] be? What will you have? I'm taking whisky: better stuff [..........] we get [..........] the water. Soda? Lithia? No mineral? I'm the same. Spoils the flavour.... Here, garç [..........] , bring us two halves [..........] malt whisky, [..........] a good fellow.... Well, and how have you been pulling [..........] [..........] I saw you last? Dear God, how old we're getting! Do you see any signs [..........] aging [..........] me—eh, what? A little grey and thin [..........] the top—what?"

Ignatius Gallaher took off his hat and displayed a large closely cropped head. His face was heavy, pale and clean-shaven. His eyes, which were [..........] bluish slate-colour, relieved his unhealthy pallor and shone out plainly [..........] the vivid orange tie he wore. [..........] these rival features the lips appeared very long and shapeless and colourless. He bent his head and felt [..........] two sympathetic fingers the thin hair [..........] the crown. Little Chandler shook his head [..........] a denial. Ignatius Galaher put [..........] his hat again.

"It pulls you [..........] ," he said. "Press life. Always hurry and scurry, looking [..........] copy and sometimes not finding it: and then, always [..........] have something new [..........] your stuff. Damn proofs and printers, I say, [..........] a few days. I'm deuced glad, I can tell you, [..........] get back [..........] the old country. Does a fellow good, a bit [..........] a holiday. I feel a ton better [..........] I landed again [..........] dear dirty Dublin.... Here you are, Tommy. Water? Say when."

Little Chandler allowed his whisky [..........] be very much diluted.

"You don't know what's good [..........] you, my boy," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I drink mine neat."

"I drink very little [..........] a rule," said Little Chandler modestly. "An odd half-one or so when I meet any [..........] the old crowd: that's all."

"Ah, well," said Ignatius Gallaher, cheerfully, "here's [..........] us and [..........] old times and old acquaintance."

They clinked glasses and drank the toast.

"I met some [..........] the old gang today," said Ignatius Gallaher. "O'Hara seems [..........] be [..........] a bad way. What's he doing?"

"Nothing," said Little Chandler. "He's gone [..........] the dogs."

" [..........] Hogan has a good sit, hasn't he?"

"Yes; he's [..........] the Land Commission."

"I met him one night [..........] London and he seemed [..........] be very flush.... Poor O'Hara! Boose, I suppose?"

"Other things, too," said Little Chandler shortly.

Ignatius Gallaher laughed.

"Tommy," he said, "I see you haven't changed an atom. You're the very same serious person that used [..........] lecture me [..........] Sunday mornings when I had a sore head and a fur [..........] my tongue. You'd want [..........] knock [..........] a bit [..........] the world. Have you never been anywhere even [..........] a trip?"

"I've been [..........] the Isle [..........] Man," said Little Chandler.

Ignatius Gallaher laughed.

"The Isle [..........] Man!" he said. "Go [..........] London or Paris: Paris, [..........] choice. That'd do you good."

"Have you seen Paris?"

"I should think I have! I've knocked [..........] there a little."

"And is it really so beautiful [..........] they say?" asked Little Chandler.

He sipped a little [..........] his drink while Ignatius Gallaher finished his boldly.

"Beautiful?" said Ignatius Gallaher, pausing [..........] the word and [..........] the flavour [..........] his drink. "It's not so beautiful, you know. [..........] course, it is beautiful.... [..........] it's the life [..........] Paris; that's the thing. Ah, there's no city [..........] Paris [..........] gaiety, movement, excitement...."

Little Chandler finished his whisky and, [..........] some trouble, succeeded [..........] catching the barman's eye. He ordered the same again.

"I've been [..........] the Moulin Rouge," Ignatius Gallaher continued when the barman had removed their glasses, "and I've been [..........] all the Bohemian cafés. Hot stuff! Not [..........] a pious chap [..........] you, Tommy."

Little Chandler said nothing [..........] the barman returned [..........] two glasses: then he touched his friend's glass lightly and reciprocated the former toast. He was beginning [..........] feel somewhat disillusioned. Gallaher's accent and way [..........] expressing himself did not please him. There was something vulgar [..........] his friend which he had not observed [..........] . [..........] perhaps it was only the result [..........] living [..........] London [..........] the bustle and competition [..........] the Press. The old personal charm was still there [..........] this new gaudy manner. And, [..........] all, Gallaher had lived, he had seen the world. Little Chandler looked [..........] his friend enviously.

"Everything [..........] Paris is gay," said Ignatius Gallaher. "They believe [..........] enjoying life—and don't you think they're right? If you want [..........] enjoy yourself properly you must go [..........] Paris. And, mind you, they've a great feeling [..........] the Irish there. When they heard I was [..........] Ireland they were ready [..........] eat me, man."

Little Chandler took four or five sips [..........] his glass.

"Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so ... immoral [..........] they say?"

Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture [..........] his right arm.

"Every place is immoral," he said. " [..........] course you do find spicy bits [..........] Paris. Go [..........] one [..........] the students' balls, [..........] instance. That's lively, if you [..........] , when the cocottes begin [..........] let themselves loose. You know what they are, I suppose?"

"I've heard [..........] them," said Little Chandler.

Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his head.

"Ah," he said, "you may say what you [..........] . There's no woman [..........] the Parisienne— [..........] style, [..........] go."

"Then it is an immoral city," said Little Chandler, [..........] timid insistence—"I mean, compared [..........] London or Dublin?"

"London!" said Ignatius Gallaher. "It's six [..........] one and half-a-dozen [..........] the other. You ask Hogan, my boy. I showed him a bit [..........] London when he was [..........] there. He'd open your eye.... I say, Tommy, don't make punch [..........] that whisky: liquor [..........] ."

"No, really...."

"O, come [..........] , another one won't do you any harm. What is it? The same again, I suppose?"

"Well ... all right."

"François, the same again.... Will you smoke, Tommy?"

Ignatius Gallaher produced his cigar-case. The two friends lit their cigars and puffed [..........] them [..........] silence [..........] their drinks were served.

"I'll tell you my opinion," said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging [..........] some time [..........] the clouds [..........] smoke [..........] which he had taken refuge, "it's a rum world. Talk [..........] immorality! I've heard [..........] cases—what am I saying?—I've known them: cases [..........] ... immorality...."

Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully [..........] his cigar and then, [..........] a calm historian's tone, he proceeded [..........] sketch [..........] his friend some pictures [..........] the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised the vices [..........] many capitals and seemed inclined [..........] award the palm [..........] Berlin. Some things he could not vouch [..........] (his friends had told him), [..........] [..........] others he had had personal experience. He spared neither rank nor caste. He revealed many [..........] the secrets [..........] religious houses [..........] the Continent and described some [..........] the practices which were fashionable [..........] high society and ended [..........] telling, [..........] details, a story [..........] an English duchess—a story which he knew [..........] be true. Little Chandler was astonished.

"Ah, well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "here we are [..........] old jog- [..........] Dublin where nothing is known [..........] such things."

"How dull you must find it," said Little Chandler, " [..........] all the other places you've seen!"

"Well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "it's a relaxation [..........] come [..........] here, you know. And, [..........] all, it's the old country, [..........] they say, isn't it? You can't help having a certain feeling [..........] it. That's human nature.... [..........] tell me something [..........] yourself. Hogan told me you had ... tasted the joys [..........] connubial bliss. Two years ago, wasn't it?"

Little Chandler blushed and smiled.

"Yes," he said. "I was married last May twelve months."

"I hope it's not too late [..........] the day [..........] offer my best wishes," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I didn't know your address or I'd have done so [..........] the time."

He extended his hand, which Little Chandler took.

"Well, Tommy," he said, "I wish you and yours every joy [..........] life, old chap, and tons [..........] money, and may you never die till I shoot you. And that's the wish [..........] a sincere friend, an old friend. You know that?"

"I know that," said Little Chandler.

"Any youngsters?" said Ignatius Gallaher.

Little Chandler blushed again.

"We have one child," he said.

"Son or daughter?"

"A little boy."

Ignatius Gallaher slapped his friend sonorously [..........] the back.

"Bravo," he said, "I wouldn't doubt you, Tommy."

Little Chandler smiled, looked confusedly [..........] his glass and bit his lower lip [..........] three childishly white front teeth.

"I hope you'll spend an evening [..........] us," he said, " [..........] you go back. My wife will be delighted [..........] meet you. We can have a little music and——"

"Thanks awfully, old chap," said Ignatius Gallaher, "I'm sorry we didn't meet earlier. [..........] I must leave tomorrow night."

"Tonight, perhaps...?"

"I'm awfully sorry, old man. You see I'm [..........] here [..........] another fellow, clever young chap he is too, and we arranged [..........] go [..........] a little card-party. Only [..........] that...."

"O, [..........] that case...."

" [..........] who knows?" said Ignatius Gallaher considerately. "Next year I may take a little skip [..........] here now that I've broken the ice. It's only a pleasure deferred."

"Very well," said Little Chandler, "the next time you come we must have an evening together. That's agreed now, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's agreed," said Ignatius Gallaher. "Next year if I come, parole d'honneur."

"And [..........] clinch the bargain," said Little Chandler, "we'll just have one more now."

Ignatius Gallaher took out a large gold watch and looked [..........] it.

"Is it [..........] be the last?" he said. "Because you know, I have an a.p."

"O, yes, positively," said Little Chandler.

"Very well, then," said Ignatius Gallaher, "let us have another one [..........] a deoc an doruis—that's good vernacular [..........] a small whisky, I believe."

Little Chandler ordered the drinks. The blush which had risen [..........] his face a few moments [..........] was establishing itself. A trifle made him blush [..........] any time: and now he felt warm and excited. Three small whiskies had gone [..........] his head and Gallaher's strong cigar had confused his mind, [..........] he was a delicate and abstinent person. The adventure [..........] meeting Gallaher [..........] eight years, [..........] finding himself [..........] Gallaher [..........] Corless's surrounded [..........] lights and noise, [..........] listening [..........] Gallaher's stories and [..........] sharing [..........] a brief space Gallaher's vagrant and triumphant life, upset the equipoise [..........] his sensitive nature. He felt acutely the contrast [..........] his own life and his friend's and it seemed [..........] him unjust. Gallaher was his inferior [..........] birth and education. He was sure that he could do something better [..........] his friend had ever done, or could ever do, something higher [..........] mere tawdry journalism if he only got the chance. What was it that stood [..........] his way? His unfortunate timidity! He wished [..........] vindicate himself [..........] some way, [..........] assert his manhood. He saw [..........] Gallaher's refusal [..........] his invitation. Gallaher was only patronising him [..........] his friendliness just [..........] he was patronising Ireland [..........] his visit.

The barman brought their drinks. Little Chandler pushed one glass towards his friend and took [..........] the other boldly.

"Who knows?" he said, [..........] they lifted their glasses. "When you come next year I may have the pleasure [..........] wishing long life and happiness [..........] Mr and Mrs Ignatius Gallaher."

Ignatius Gallaher [..........] the act [..........] drinking closed one eye expressively [..........] the rim [..........] his glass. When he had drunk he smacked his lips decisively, set [..........] his glass and said:

"No blooming fear [..........] that, my boy. I'm going [..........] have my fling first and see a bit [..........] life and the world [..........] I put my head [..........] the sack—if I ever do."

"Some day you will," said Little Chandler calmly.

Ignatius Gallaher turned his orange tie and slate-blue eyes full upon his friend.

"You think so?" he said.

"You'll put your head [..........] the sack," repeated Little Chandler stoutly, " [..........] everyone else if you can find the girl."

He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had betrayed himself; [..........] , though the colour had heightened [..........] his cheek, he did not flinch [..........] his friend's gaze. Ignatius Gallaher watched him [..........] a few moments and then said:

"If ever it occurs, you may bet your bottom dollar there'll be no mooning and spooning [..........] it. I mean [..........] marry money. She'll have a good fat account [..........] the bank or she won't do [..........] me."

Little Chandler shook his head.

"Why, man alive," said Ignatius Gallaher, vehemently, "do you know what it is? I've only [..........] say the word and tomorrow I can have the woman and the cash. You don't believe it? Well, I know it. There are hundreds—what am I saying?—thousands [..........] rich Germans and Jews, rotten [..........] money, that'd only be too glad.... You wait a while my boy. See if I don't play my cards properly. When I go [..........] a thing I mean business, I tell you. You just wait."

He tossed his glass [..........] his mouth, finished his drink and laughed loudly. Then he looked thoughtfully [..........] him and said [..........] a calmer tone:

" [..........] I'm [..........] no hurry. They can wait. I don't fancy tying myself [..........] [..........] one woman, you know."

He imitated [..........] his mouth the act [..........] tasting and made a wry face.

"Must get a bit stale, I should think," he said.

Little Chandler sat [..........] the room off the hall, holding a child [..........] his arms. [..........] [..........] money they kept no servant [..........] Annie's young sister Monica came [..........] an hour or so [..........] the morning and an hour or so [..........] the evening [..........] help. [..........] Monica had gone home long ago. It was a quarter [..........] nine. Little Chandler had come home late [..........] tea and, moreover, he had forgotten [..........] bring Annie home the parcel [..........] coffee [..........] Bewley's. [..........] course she was [..........] a bad humour and gave him short answers. She said she would do without any tea [..........] when it came [..........] the time [..........] which the shop [..........] the corner closed she decided [..........] go out herself [..........] a quarter [..........] a pound [..........] tea and two pounds [..........] sugar. She put the sleeping child deftly [..........] his arms and said:

"Here. Don't waken him."

A little lamp [..........] a white china shade stood upon the table and its light fell [..........] a photograph which was enclosed [..........] a frame [..........] crumpled horn. It was Annie's photograph. Little Chandler looked [..........] it, pausing [..........] the thin tight lips. She wore the pale blue summer blouse which he had brought her home [..........] a present one Saturday. It had cost him ten and elevenpence; [..........] what an agony [..........] nervousness it had cost him! How he had suffered that day, waiting [..........] the shop door [..........] the shop was empty, standing [..........] the counter and trying [..........] appear [..........] his ease while the girl piled ladies' blouses [..........] him, paying [..........] the desk and forgetting [..........] take [..........] the odd penny [..........] his change, being called back [..........] the cashier, and finally, striving [..........] hide his blushes [..........] he left the shop [..........] examining the parcel [..........] see if it was securely tied. When he brought the blouse home Annie kissed him and said it was very pretty and stylish; [..........] when she heard the price she threw the blouse [..........] the table and said it was a regular swindle [..........] charge ten and elevenpence [..........] it. [..........] first she wanted [..........] take it back [..........] when she tried it [..........] she was delighted [..........] it, especially [..........] the make [..........] the sleeves, and kissed him and said he was very good [..........] think [..........] her.

Hm!...

He looked coldly into the eyes [..........] the photograph and they answered coldly. Certainly they were pretty and the face itself was pretty. [..........] he found something mean [..........] it. Why was it so unconscious and ladylike? The composure [..........] the eyes irritated him. They repelled him and defied him: there was no passion [..........] them, no rapture. He thought [..........] what Gallaher had said [..........] rich Jewesses. Those dark Oriental eyes, he thought, how full they are [..........] passion, [..........] voluptuous longing!... Why had he married the eyes [..........] the photograph?

He caught himself [..........] [..........] the question and glanced nervously [..........] the room. He found something mean [..........] the pretty furniture which he had bought [..........] his house [..........] the hire system. Annie had chosen it herself and it reminded him [..........] her. It too was prim and pretty. A dull resentment [..........] his life awoke within him. Could he not escape [..........] his little house? Was it too late [..........] him [..........] try [..........] live bravely [..........] Gallaher? Could he go [..........] London? There was the furniture still [..........] be paid [..........] . If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way [..........] him.

A volume [..........] Byron's poems lay [..........] him [..........] the table. He opened it cautiously [..........] his left hand lest he should waken the child and began [..........] read the first poem [..........] the book:

     Hushed are the winds and still the evening gloom,
     Not e'en a Zephyr wanders  [..........] 
 the grove,
     Whilst I return  [..........] 
 view my Margaret's tomb
     And scatter flowers  [..........] 
 the dust I love.

He paused. He felt the rhythm [..........] the verse [..........] him [..........] the room. How melancholy it was! Could he, too, write [..........] that, express the melancholy [..........] his soul [..........] verse? There were so many things he wanted [..........] describe: his sensation [..........] a few hours [..........] [..........] Grattan Bridge, [..........] example. If he could get back again into that mood....

The child awoke and began [..........] cry. He turned [..........] the page and tried [..........] hush it: [..........] it would not be hushed. He began [..........] rock it [..........] and fro [..........] his arms [..........] its wailing cry grew keener. He rocked it faster while his eyes began [..........] read the second stanza:

    Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,
    That clay where once....

It was useless. He couldn't read. He couldn't do anything. The wailing [..........] the child pierced the drum [..........] his ear. It was useless, useless! He was a prisoner [..........] life. His arms trembled [..........] anger and suddenly bending [..........] the child's face he shouted:

"Stop!"

The child stopped [..........] an instant, had a spasm [..........] fright and began [..........] scream. He jumped [..........] [..........] his chair and walked hastily [..........] and [..........] the room [..........] the child [..........] his arms. It began [..........] sob piteously, losing its breath [..........] four or five seconds, and then bursting out anew. The thin walls [..........] the room echoed the sound. He tried [..........] soothe it [..........] it sobbed more convulsively. He looked [..........] the contracted and quivering face [..........] the child and began [..........] be alarmed. He counted seven sobs without a break [..........] them and caught the child [..........] his breast [..........] fright. If it died!...

The door was burst open and a young woman ran [..........] , panting.

"What is it? What is it?" she cried.

The child, hearing its mother's voice, broke out into a paroxysm [..........] sobbing.

"It's nothing, Annie ... it's nothing.... He began [..........] cry...."

She flung her parcels [..........] the floor and snatched the child [..........] him.

"What have you done [..........] him?" she cried, glaring into his face.

Little Chandler sustained [..........] one moment the gaze [..........] her eyes and his heart closed together [..........] he met the hatred [..........] them. He began [..........] stammer:

"It's nothing.... He ... he began [..........] cry.... I couldn't ... I didn't do anything.... What?"

Giving no heed [..........] him she began [..........] walk [..........] and [..........] the room, clasping the child tightly [..........] her arms and murmuring:

"My little man! My little mannie! Was 'ou frightened, love?... There now, love! There now!... Lambabaun! Mamma's little lamb [..........] the world!... There now!"

Little Chandler felt his cheeks suffused [..........] shame and he stood back out [..........] the lamplight. He listened while the paroxysm [..........] the child's sobbing grew less and less; and tears [..........] remorse started [..........] his eyes.

COUNTERPARTS

THE bell rang furiously and, when Miss Parker went [..........] the tube, a furious voice called out [..........] a piercing North [..........] Ireland accent:

"Send Farrington here!"

Miss Parker returned [..........] her machine, saying [..........] a man who was writing [..........] a desk:

"Mr Alleyne wants you upstairs."

The man muttered "Blast him!" [..........] his breath and pushed back his chair [..........] stand [..........] . When he stood [..........] he was tall and [..........] great bulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine-coloured, [..........] fair eyebrows and moustache: his eyes bulged forward slightly and the whites [..........] them were dirty. He lifted [..........] the counter and, passing [..........] the clients, went out [..........] the office [..........] a heavy step.

He went heavily upstairs [..........] he came [..........] the second landing, where a door bore a brass plate [..........] the inscription Mr Alleyne. Here he halted, puffing [..........] labour and vexation, and knocked. The shrill voice cried:

"Come [..........] !"

The man entered Mr Alleyne's room. Simultaneously Mr Alleyne, a little man wearing gold-rimmed glasses [..........] a clean-shaven face, shot his head [..........] [..........] a pile [..........] documents. The head itself was so pink and hairless it seemed [..........] a large egg reposing [..........] the papers. Mr Alleyne did not lose a moment:

"Farrington? What is the meaning [..........] this? Why have I always [..........] complain [..........] you? May I ask you why you haven't made a copy [..........] that contract [..........] Bodley and Kirwan? I told you it must be ready [..........] four o'clock."

" [..........] Mr Shelley said, sir——"

"Mr Shelley said, sir.... Kindly attend [..........] what I say and not [..........] what Mr Shelley says, sir. You have always some excuse or another [..........] shirking work. Let me tell you that if the contract is not copied [..........] this evening I'll lay the matter [..........] Mr Crosbie.... Do you hear me now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you hear me now?... Ay and another little matter! I might [..........] well be talking [..........] the wall [..........] talking [..........] you. Understand once [..........] all that you get a half an hour [..........] your lunch and not an hour and a half. How many courses do you want, I'd [..........] [..........] know.... Do you mind me, now?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr Alleyne bent his head again upon his pile [..........] papers. The man stared fixedly [..........] the polished skull which directed the affairs [..........] Crosbie & Alleyne, gauging its fragility. A spasm [..........] rage gripped his throat [..........] a few moments and then passed, leaving [..........] it a sharp sensation [..........] thirst. The man recognised the sensation and felt that he must have a good night's drinking. The middle [..........] the month was passed and, if he could get the copy done [..........] time, Mr Alleyne might give him an order [..........] the cashier. He stood still, gazing fixedly [..........] the head upon the pile [..........] papers. Suddenly Mr Alleyne began [..........] upset all the papers, searching [..........] something. Then, [..........] if he had been unaware [..........] the man's presence till that moment, he shot [..........] his head again, saying:

"Eh? Are you going [..........] stand there all day? Upon my word, Farrington, you take things easy!"

"I was waiting [..........] see...."

"Very good, you needn't wait [..........] see. Go downstairs and do your work."

The man walked heavily towards the door and, [..........] he went out [..........] the room, he heard Mr Alleyne cry [..........] him that if the contract was not copied [..........] evening Mr Crosbie would hear [..........] the matter.

He returned [..........] his desk [..........] the lower office and counted the sheets which remained [..........] be copied. He took [..........] his pen and dipped it [..........] the ink [..........] he continued [..........] stare stupidly [..........] the last words he had written: [..........] no case shall the said Bernard Bodley be.... The evening was falling and [..........] a few minutes they would be lighting the gas: then he could write. He felt that he must slake the thirst [..........] his throat. He stood [..........] [..........] his desk and, lifting the counter [..........] [..........] , passed out [..........] the office. [..........] he was passing out the chief clerk looked [..........] him inquiringly.

"It's all right, Mr Shelley," said the man, pointing [..........] his finger [..........] indicate the objective [..........] his journey.

The chief clerk glanced [..........] the hat-rack [..........] , seeing the row complete, offered no remark. [..........] soon [..........] he was [..........] the landing the man pulled a shepherd's plaid cap out [..........] his pocket, put it [..........] his head and ran quickly [..........] the rickety stairs. [..........] the street door he walked [..........] furtively [..........] the inner side [..........] the path towards the corner and all [..........] once dived into a doorway. He was now safe [..........] the dark snug [..........] O'Neill's shop, and filling [..........] the little window that looked into the bar [..........] his inflamed face, the colour [..........] dark wine or dark meat, he called out:

"Here, Pat, give us a g.p., [..........] a good fellow."

The curate brought him a glass [..........] plain porter. The man drank it [..........] a gulp and asked [..........] a caraway seed. He put his penny [..........] the counter and, leaving the curate [..........] grope [..........] it [..........] the gloom, retreated out [..........] the snug [..........] furtively [..........] he had entered it.

Darkness, accompanied [..........] a thick fog, was gaining upon the dusk [..........] February and the lamps [..........] Eustace Street had been lit. The man went [..........] [..........] the houses [..........] he reached the door [..........] the office, wondering whether he could finish his copy [..........] time. [..........] the stairs a moist pungent odour [..........] perfumes saluted his nose: evidently Miss Delacour had come while he was out [..........] O'Neill's. He crammed his cap back again into his pocket and re-entered the office, assuming an air [..........] absent-mindedness.

"Mr Alleyne has been calling [..........] you," said the chief clerk severely. "Where were you?"

The man glanced [..........] the two clients who were standing [..........] the counter [..........] if [..........] intimate that their presence prevented him [..........] answering. [..........] the clients were both male the chief clerk allowed himself a laugh.

"I know that game," he said. "Five times [..........] one day is a little bit.... Well, you better look sharp and get a copy [..........] our correspondence [..........] the Delacour case [..........] Mr Alleyne."

This address [..........] the presence [..........] the public, his run upstairs and the porter he had gulped [..........] so hastily confused the man and, [..........] he sat [..........] [..........] his desk [..........] get what was required, he realised how hopeless was the task [..........] finishing his copy [..........] the contract [..........] half [..........] five. The dark damp night was coming and he longed [..........] spend it [..........] the bars, drinking [..........] his friends [..........] the glare [..........] gas and the clatter [..........] glasses. He got out the Delacour correspondence and passed out [..........] the office. He hoped Mr Alleyne would not discover that the last two letters were missing.

The moist pungent perfume lay all the way [..........] [..........] Mr Alleyne's room. Miss Delacour was a middle-aged woman [..........] Jewish appearance. Mr Alleyne was said [..........] be sweet [..........] her or [..........] her money. She came [..........] the office often and stayed a long time when she came. She was sitting [..........] his desk now [..........] an aroma [..........] perfumes, smoothing the handle [..........] her umbrella and nodding the great black feather [..........] her hat. Mr Alleyne had swivelled his chair [..........] [..........] face her and thrown his right foot jauntily upon his left knee. The man put the correspondence [..........] the desk and bowed respectfully [..........] neither Mr Alleyne nor Miss Delacour took any notice [..........] his bow. Mr Alleyne tapped a finger [..........] the correspondence and then flicked it towards him [..........] if [..........] say: "That's all right: you can go."

The man returned [..........] the lower office and sat [..........] again [..........] his desk. He stared intently [..........] the incomplete phrase: [..........] no case shall the said Bernard Bodley be ... and thought how strange it was that the last three words began [..........] the same letter. The chief clerk began [..........] hurry Miss Parker, saying she would never have the letters typed [..........] time [..........] post. The man listened [..........] the clicking [..........] the machine [..........] a few minutes and then set [..........] work [..........] finish his copy. [..........] his head was not clear and his mind wandered away [..........] the glare and rattle [..........] the public-house. It was a night [..........] hot punches. He struggled [..........] [..........] his copy, [..........] when the clock struck five he had still fourteen pages [..........] write. Blast it! He couldn't finish it [..........] time. He longed [..........] execrate aloud, [..........] bring his fist [..........] [..........] something violently. He was so enraged that he wrote Bernard Bernard instead [..........] Bernard Bodley and had [..........] begin again [..........] a clean sheet.

He felt strong enough [..........] clear out the whole office singlehanded. His body ached [..........] do something, [..........] rush out and revel [..........] violence. All the indignities [..........] his life enraged him.... Could he ask the cashier privately [..........] an advance? No, the cashier was no good, no damn good: he wouldn't give an advance.... He knew where he would meet the boys: Leonard and O'Halloran and Nosey Flynn. The barometer [..........] his emotional nature was set [..........] a spell [..........] riot.

His imagination had so abstracted him that his name was called twice [..........] he answered. Mr Alleyne and Miss Delacour were standing [..........] the counter and all the clerks had turn [..........] [..........] anticipation [..........] something. The man got [..........] [..........] his desk. Mr Alleyne began a tirade [..........] abuse, saying that two letters were missing. The man answered that he knew nothing [..........] them, that he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitter and violent that the man could hardly restrain his fist [..........] descending upon the head [..........] the manikin [..........] him:

"I know nothing [..........] any other two letters," he said stupidly.

"You—know—nothing. [..........] course you know nothing," said Mr Alleyne. "Tell me," he added, glancing first [..........] approval [..........] the lady [..........] him, "do you take me [..........] a fool? Do you think me an utter fool?"

The man glanced [..........] the lady's face [..........] the little egg-shaped head and back again; and, almost [..........] he was aware [..........] it, his tongue had found a felicitous moment:

"I don't think, sir," he said, "that that's a fair question [..........] put [..........] me."

There was a pause [..........] the very breathing [..........] the clerks. Everyone was astounded (the author [..........] the witticism no less [..........] his neighbours) and Miss Delacour, who was a stout amiable person, began [..........] smile broadly. Mr Alleyne flushed [..........] the hue [..........] a wild rose and his mouth twitched [..........] a dwarf's passion. He shook his fist [..........] the man's face till it seemed [..........] vibrate [..........] the knob [..........] some electric machine:

"You impertinent ruffian! You impertinent ruffian! I'll make short work [..........] you! Wait till you see! You'll apologise [..........] me [..........] your impertinence or you'll quit the office instanter! You'll quit this, I'm telling you, or you'll apologise [..........] me!"

He stood [..........] a doorway [..........] the office watching [..........] see if the cashier would come out alone. All the clerks passed out and finally the cashier came out [..........] the chief clerk. It was no use trying [..........] say a word [..........] him when he was [..........] the chief clerk. The man felt that his position was bad enough. He had been obliged [..........] offer an abject apology [..........] Mr Alleyne [..........] his impertinence [..........] he knew what a hornet's nest the office would be [..........] him. He could remember the way [..........] which Mr Alleyne had hounded little Peake out [..........] the office [..........] order [..........] make room [..........] his own nephew. He felt savage and thirsty and revengeful, annoyed [..........] himself and [..........] everyone else. Mr Alleyne would never give him an hour's rest; his life would be a hell [..........] him. He had made a proper fool [..........] himself this time. Could he not keep his tongue [..........] his cheek? [..........] they had never pulled together [..........] the first, he and Mr Alleyne, ever [..........] the day Mr Alleyne had overheard him mimicking his North [..........] Ireland accent [..........] amuse Higgins and Miss Parker: that had been the beginning [..........] it. He might have tried Higgins [..........] the money, [..........] sure Higgins never had anything [..........] himself. A man [..........] two establishments [..........] keep [..........] , [..........] course he couldn't....

He felt his great body again aching [..........] the comfort [..........] the public-house. The fog had begun [..........] chill him and he wondered could he touch Pat [..........] O'Neill's. He could not touch him [..........] more [..........] a bob—and a bob was no use. Yet he must get money somewhere or other: he had spent his last penny [..........] the g.p. and soon it would be too late [..........] getting money anywhere. Suddenly, [..........] he was fingering his watch-chain, he thought [..........] Terry Kelly's pawn-office [..........] Fleet Street. That was the dart! Why didn't he think [..........] it sooner?

He went [..........] the narrow alley [..........] Temple Bar quickly, muttering [..........] himself that they could all go [..........] hell because he was going [..........] have a good night [..........] it. The clerk [..........] Terry Kelly's said A crown! [..........] the consignor held out [..........] six shillings; and [..........] the end the six shillings was allowed him literally. He came out [..........] the pawn-office joyfully, making a little cylinder, [..........] the coins [..........] his thumb and fingers. [..........] Westmoreland Street the footpaths were crowded [..........] young men and women returning [..........] business and ragged urchins ran here and there yelling out the names [..........] the evening editions. The man passed [..........] the crowd, looking [..........] the spectacle generally [..........] proud satisfaction and staring masterfully [..........] the office-girls. His head was full [..........] the noises [..........] tram-gongs and swishing trolleys and his nose already sniffed the curling fumes [..........] punch. [..........] he walked [..........] he preconsidered the terms [..........] which he would narrate the incident [..........] the boys:

"So, I just looked [..........] him—coolly, you know, and looked [..........] her. Then I looked back [..........] him again—taking my time, you know. 'I don't think that that's a fair question [..........] put [..........] me,' says I."

Nosey Flynn was sitting [..........] [..........] his usual corner [..........] Davy Byrne's and, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one, saying it was [..........] smart a thing [..........] ever he heard. Farrington stood a drink [..........] his turn. [..........] a while O'Halloran and Paddy Leonard came [..........] and the story was repeated [..........] them. O'Halloran stood tailors [..........] malt, hot, all [..........] and told the story [..........] the retort he had made [..........] the chief clerk when he was [..........] Callan's [..........] Fownes's Street; [..........] , [..........] the retort was [..........] the manner [..........] the liberal shepherds [..........] the eclogues, he had [..........] admit that it was not [..........] clever [..........] Farrington's retort. [..........] this Farrington told the boys [..........] polish off that and have another.

Just [..........] they were naming their poisons who should come [..........] [..........] Higgins! [..........] course he had [..........] join [..........] [..........] the others. The men asked him [..........] give his version [..........] it, and he did so [..........] great vivacity [..........] the sight [..........] five small hot whiskies was very exhilarating. Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way [..........] which Mr Alleyne shook his fist [..........] Farrington's face. Then he imitated Farrington, saying, "And here was my nabs, [..........] cool [..........] you please," while Farrington looked [..........] the company out [..........] his heavy dirty eyes, smiling and [..........] times drawing forth stray drops [..........] liquor [..........] his moustache [..........] the aid [..........] his lower lip.

When that [..........] was [..........] there was a pause. O'Halloran had money [..........] neither [..........] the other two seemed [..........] have any; so the whole party left the shop somewhat regretfully. [..........] the corner [..........] Duke Street Higgins and Nosey Flynn bevelled off [..........] the left while the other three turned back towards the city. Rain was drizzling [..........] [..........] the cold streets and, when they reached the Ballast Office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House. The bar was full [..........] men and loud [..........] the noise [..........] tongues and glasses. The three men pushed [..........] the whining match-sellers [..........] the door and formed a little party [..........] the corner [..........] the counter. They began [..........] exchange stories. Leonard introduced them [..........] a young fellow named Weathers who was performing [..........] the Tivoli [..........] an acrobat and knockabout artiste. Farrington stood a drink all [..........] . Weathers said he would take a small Irish and Apollinaris. Farrington, who had definite notions [..........] what was what, asked the boys would they have an Apollinaris too; [..........] the boys told Tim [..........] make theirs hot. The talk became theatrical. O'Halloran stood a [..........] and then Farrington stood another [..........] , Weathers protesting that the hospitality was too Irish. He promised [..........] get them [..........] [..........] the scenes and introduce them [..........] some nice girls. O'Halloran said that he and Leonard would go, [..........] that Farrington wouldn't go because he was a married man; and Farrington's heavy dirty eyes leered [..........] the company [..........] token that he understood he was being chaffed. Weathers made them all have just one little tincture [..........] his expense and promised [..........] meet them later [..........] [..........] Mulligan's [..........] Poolbeg Street.

When the Scotch House closed they went [..........] [..........] Mulligan's. They went into the parlour [..........] the back and O'Halloran ordered small hot specials all [..........] . They were all beginning [..........] feel mellow. Farrington was just standing another [..........] when Weathers came back. Much [..........] Farrington's relief he drank a glass [..........] bitter this time. Funds were getting low [..........] they had enough [..........] keep them going. Presently two young women [..........] big hats and a young man [..........] a check suit came [..........] and sat [..........] a table close [..........] . Weathers saluted them and told the company that they were out [..........] the Tivoli. Farrington's eyes wandered [..........] every moment [..........] the direction [..........] one [..........] the young women. There was something striking [..........] her appearance. An immense scarf [..........] peacock-blue muslin was wound [..........] her hat and knotted [..........] a great bow [..........] her chin; and she wore bright yellow gloves, reaching [..........] the elbow. Farrington gazed admiringly [..........] the plump arm which she moved very often and [..........] much grace; and when, [..........] a little time, she answered his gaze he admired still more her large dark brown eyes. The oblique staring expression [..........] them fascinated him. She glanced [..........] him once or twice and, when the party was leaving the room, she brushed [..........] his chair and said "O, pardon!" [..........] a London accent. He watched her leave the room [..........] the hope that she would look back [..........] him, [..........] he was disappointed. He cursed his want [..........] money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly all the whiskies and Apollinaris which he had stood [..........] Weathers. If there was one thing that he hated it was a sponge. He was so angry that he lost count [..........] the conversation [..........] his friends.

When Paddy Leonard called him he found that they were talking [..........] feats [..........] strength. Weathers was showing his biceps muscle [..........] the company and boasting so much that the other two had called [..........] Farrington [..........] uphold the national honour. Farrington pulled [..........] his sleeve accordingly and showed his biceps muscle [..........] the company. The two arms were examined and compared and finally it was agreed [..........] have a trial [..........] strength. The table was cleared and the two men rested their elbows [..........] it, clasping hands. When Paddy Leonard said "Go!" each was [..........] try [..........] bring [..........] the other's hand [..........] [..........] the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined.

The trial began. [..........] [..........] thirty seconds Weathers brought his opponent's hand slowly [..........] [..........] [..........] the table. Farrington's dark wine-coloured face flushed darker still [..........] anger and humiliation [..........] having been defeated [..........] such a stripling.

"You're not [..........] put the weight [..........] your body [..........] it. Play fair," he said.

"Who's not playing fair?" said the other.

"Come [..........] again. The two best out [..........] three."

The trial began again. The veins stood out [..........] Farrington's forehead, and the pallor [..........] Weathers' complexion changed [..........] peony. Their hands and arms trembled [..........] the stress. [..........] a long struggle Weathers again brought his opponent's hand slowly [..........] [..........] the table. There was a murmur [..........] applause [..........] the spectators. The curate, who was standing [..........] the table, nodded his red head towards the victor and said [..........] stupid familiarity:

"Ah! that's the knack!"

"What the hell do you know [..........] it?" said Farrington fiercely, turning [..........] the man. "What do you put [..........] your gab [..........] ?"

"Sh, sh!" said O'Halloran, observing the violent expression [..........] Farrington's face. "Pony [..........] , boys. We'll have just one little smahan more and then we'll be off."

A very sullen-faced man stood [..........] the corner [..........] O'Connell Bridge waiting [..........] the little Sandymount tram [..........] take him home. He was full [..........] smouldering anger and revengefulness. He felt humiliated and discontented; he did not even feel drunk; and he had only twopence [..........] his pocket. He cursed everything. He had done [..........] himself [..........] the office, pawned his watch, spent all his money; and he had not even got drunk. He began [..........] feel thirsty again and he longed [..........] be back again [..........] the hot reeking public-house. He had lost his reputation [..........] a strong man, having been defeated twice [..........] a mere boy. His heart swelled [..........] fury and, when he thought [..........] the woman [..........] the big hat who had brushed [..........] him and said Pardon! his fury nearly choked him.

His tram let him [..........] [..........] Shelbourne Road and he steered his great body [..........] [..........] the shadow [..........] the wall [..........] the barracks. He loathed returning [..........] his home. When he went [..........] [..........] the side-door he found the kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled upstairs:

"Ada! Ada!"

His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husband when he was sober and was bullied [..........] him when he was drunk. They had five children. A little boy came running [..........] the stairs.

"Who is that?" said the man, peering [..........] the darkness.

"Me, pa."

"Who are you? Charlie?"

"No, pa. Tom."

"Where's your mother?"

"She's out [..........] the chapel."

"That's right.... Did she think [..........] leaving any dinner [..........] me?"

"Yes, pa. I——"

"Light the lamp. What do you mean [..........] having the place [..........] darkness? Are the other children [..........] bed?"

The man sat [..........] heavily [..........] one [..........] the chairs while the little boy lit the lamp. He began [..........] mimic his son's flat accent, saying half [..........] himself: " [..........] the chapel. [..........] the chapel, if you please!" When the lamp was lit he banged his fist [..........] the table and shouted:

"What's [..........] my dinner?"

"I'm going ... [..........] cook it, pa," said the little boy.

The man jumped [..........] furiously and pointed [..........] the fire.

" [..........] that fire! You let the fire out! [..........] God, I'll teach you [..........] do that again!"

He took a step [..........] the door and seized the walking-stick which was standing [..........] it.

"I'll teach you [..........] let the fire out!" he said, rolling [..........] his sleeve [..........] order [..........] give his arm free play.

The little boy cried "O, pa!" and ran whimpering [..........] the table, [..........] the man followed him and caught him [..........] the coat. The little boy looked [..........] him wildly [..........] , seeing no way [..........] escape, fell upon his knees.

"Now, you'll let the fire out the next time!" said the man striking [..........] him vigorously [..........] the stick. "Take that, you little whelp!"

The boy uttered a squeal [..........] pain [..........] the stick cut his thigh. He clasped his hands together [..........] the air and his voice shook [..........] fright.

"O, pa!" he cried. "Don't beat me, pa! And I'll ... I'll say a Hail Mary [..........] you.... I'll say a Hail Mary [..........] you, pa, if you don't beat me.... I'll say a Hail Mary...."

CLAY

THE matron had given her leave [..........] go out [..........] soon [..........] the women's tea was [..........] and Maria looked forward [..........] her evening out. The kitchen was spick and span: the cook said you could see yourself [..........] the big copper boilers. The fire was nice and bright and [..........] one [..........] the side-tables were four very big barmbracks. These barmbracks seemed uncut; [..........] if you went closer you would see that they had been cut into long thick even slices and were ready [..........] be handed [..........] [..........] tea. Maria had cut them herself.

Maria was a very, very small person indeed [..........] she had a very long nose and a very long chin. She talked a little [..........] her nose, always soothingly: "Yes, my dear," and "No, my dear." She was always sent [..........] when the women quarrelled [..........] their tubs and always succeeded [..........] making peace. One day the matron had said [..........] her:

"Maria, you are a veritable peace-maker!"

And the sub-matron and two [..........] the Board ladies had heard the compliment. And Ginger Mooney was always saying what she wouldn't do [..........] the dummy who had charge [..........] the irons if it wasn't [..........] Maria. Everyone was so fond [..........] Maria.

The women would have their tea [..........] six o'clock and she would be able [..........] get away [..........] seven. [..........] Ballsbridge [..........] the Pillar, twenty minutes; [..........] the Pillar [..........] Drumcondra, twenty minutes; and twenty minutes [..........] buy the things. She would be there [..........] eight. She took out her purse [..........] the silver clasps and read again the words A Present [..........] Belfast. She was very fond [..........] that purse because Joe had brought it [..........] her five years [..........] when he and Alphy had gone [..........] Belfast [..........] a Whit-Monday trip. [..........] the purse were two half-crowns and some coppers. She would have five shillings clear [..........] paying tram fare. What a nice evening they would have, all the children singing! Only she hoped that Joe wouldn't come [..........] drunk. He was so different when he took any drink.

Often he had wanted her [..........] go and live [..........] them; [..........] she would have felt herself [..........] the way (though Joe's wife was ever so nice [..........] her) and she had become accustomed [..........] the life [..........] the laundry. Joe was a good fellow. She had nursed him and Alphy too; and Joe used often say:

"Mamma is mamma [..........] Maria is my proper mother."

[..........] the break- [..........] [..........] home the boys had got her that position [..........] the Dublin [..........] Lamplight laundry, and she liked it. She used [..........] have such a bad opinion [..........] Protestants [..........] now she thought they were very nice people, a little quiet and serious, [..........] still very nice people [..........] live [..........] . Then she had her plants [..........] the conservatory and she liked looking [..........] them. She had lovely ferns and wax-plants and, whenever anyone came [..........] visit her, she always gave the visitor one or two slips [..........] her conservatory. There was one thing she didn't [..........] and that was the tracts [..........] the walks; [..........] the matron was such a nice person [..........] deal [..........] , so genteel.

When the cook told her everything was ready she went into the women's room and began [..........] pull the big bell. [..........] a few minutes the women began [..........] come [..........] [..........] twos and threes, wiping their steaming hands [..........] their petticoats and pulling [..........] the sleeves [..........] their blouses [..........] their red steaming arms. They settled [..........] [..........] their huge mugs which the cook and the dummy filled [..........] [..........] hot tea, already mixed [..........] milk and sugar [..........] huge tin cans. Maria superintended the distribution [..........] the barmbrack and saw that every woman got her four slices. There was a great deal [..........] laughing and joking [..........] the meal. Lizzie Fleming said Maria was sure [..........] get the ring and, though Fleming had said that [..........] so many Hallow Eves, Maria had [..........] laugh and say she didn't want any ring or man either; and when she laughed her grey-green eyes sparkled [..........] disappointed shyness and the tip [..........] her nose nearly met the tip [..........] her chin. Then Ginger Mooney lifted [..........] her mug [..........] tea and proposed Maria's health while all the other women clattered [..........] their mugs [..........] the table, and said she was sorry she hadn't a sup [..........] porter [..........] drink it [..........] . And Maria laughed again till the tip [..........] her nose nearly met the tip [..........] her chin and till her minute body nearly shook itself asunder because she knew that Mooney meant well though, [..........] course, she had the notions [..........] a common woman.

[..........] wasn't Maria glad when the women had finished their tea and the cook and the dummy had begun [..........] clear away the tea-things! She went into her little bedroom and, remembering that the next morning was a mass morning, changed the hand [..........] the alarm [..........] seven [..........] six. Then she took off her working skirt and her house-boots and laid her best skirt out [..........] the bed and her tiny dress-boots [..........] the foot [..........] the bed. She changed her blouse too and, [..........] she stood [..........] the mirror, she thought [..........] how she used [..........] dress [..........] mass [..........] Sunday morning when she was a young girl; and she looked [..........] quaint affection [..........] the diminutive body which she had so often adorned. [..........] spite [..........] its years she found it a nice tidy little body.

When she got [..........] the streets were shining [..........] rain and she was glad [..........] her old brown waterproof. The tram was full and she had [..........] sit [..........] the little stool [..........] the end [..........] the car, facing all the people, [..........] her toes barely touching the floor. She arranged [..........] her mind all she was going [..........] do and thought how much better it was [..........] be independent and [..........] have your own money [..........] your pocket. She hoped they would have a nice evening. She was sure they would [..........] she could not help thinking what a pity it was Alphy and Joe were not speaking. They were always falling out now [..........] when they were boys together they used [..........] be the best [..........] friends: [..........] such was life.

She got out [..........] her tram [..........] the Pillar and ferreted her way quickly [..........] the crowds. She went into Downes's cake-shop [..........] the shop was so full [..........] people that it was a long time [..........] she could get herself attended [..........] . She bought a dozen [..........] mixed penny cakes, and [..........] last came out [..........] the shop laden [..........] a big bag. Then she thought what else would she buy: she wanted [..........] buy something really nice. They would be sure [..........] have plenty [..........] apples and nuts. It was hard [..........] know what [..........] buy and all she could think [..........] was cake. She decided [..........] buy some plumcake [..........] Downes's plumcake had not enough almond icing [..........] top [..........] it so she went [..........] [..........] a shop [..........] Henry Street. Here she was a long time [..........] suiting herself and the stylish young lady [..........] the counter, who was evidently a little annoyed [..........] her, asked her was it wedding-cake she wanted [..........] buy. That made Maria blush and smile [..........] the young lady; [..........] the young lady took it all very seriously and finally cut a thick slice [..........] plumcake, parcelled it [..........] and said:

"Two-and-four, please."

She thought she would have [..........] stand [..........] the Drumcondra tram because none [..........] the young men seemed [..........] notice her [..........] an elderly gentleman made room [..........] her. He was a stout gentleman and he wore a brown hard hat; he had a square red face and a greyish moustache. Maria thought he was a colonel-looking gentleman and she reflected how much more polite he was [..........] the young men who simply stared straight [..........] them. The gentleman began [..........] chat [..........] her [..........] Hallow Eve and the rainy weather. He supposed the bag was full [..........] good things [..........] the little ones and said it was only right that the youngsters should enjoy themselves while they were young. Maria agreed [..........] him and favoured him [..........] demure nods and hems. He was very nice [..........] her, and when she was getting out [..........] the Canal Bridge she thanked him and bowed, and he bowed [..........] her and raised his hat and smiled agreeably, and while she was going [..........] [..........] the terrace, bending her tiny head [..........] the rain, she thought how easy it was [..........] know a gentleman even when he has a drop taken.

Everybody said: "O, here's Maria!" when she came [..........] Joe's house. Joe was there, having come home [..........] business, and all the children had their Sunday dresses [..........] . There were two big girls [..........] [..........] next door and games were going [..........] . Maria gave the bag [..........] cakes [..........] the eldest boy, Alphy, [..........] divide and Mrs Donnelly said it was too good [..........] her [..........] bring such a big bag [..........] cakes and made all the children say:

"Thanks, Maria."

[..........] Maria said she had brought something special [..........] papa and mamma, something they would be sure [..........] [..........] , and she began [..........] look [..........] her plumcake. She tried [..........] Downes's bag and then [..........] the pockets [..........] her waterproof and then [..........] the hallstand [..........] nowhere could she find it. Then she asked all the children had any [..........] them eaten it— [..........] mistake, [..........] course— [..........] the children all said no and looked [..........] if they did not [..........] [..........] eat cakes if they were [..........] be accused [..........] stealing. Everybody had a solution [..........] the mystery and Mrs Donnelly said it was plain that Maria had left it [..........] her [..........] the tram. Maria, remembering how confused the gentleman [..........] the greyish moustache had made her, coloured [..........] shame and vexation and disappointment. [..........] the thought [..........] the failure [..........] her little surprise and [..........] the two and fourpence she had thrown away [..........] nothing she nearly cried outright.

[..........] Joe said it didn't matter and made her sit [..........] [..........] the fire. He was very nice [..........] her. He told her all that went [..........] [..........] his office, repeating [..........] her a smart answer which he had made [..........] the manager. Maria did not understand why Joe laughed so much [..........] the answer he had made [..........] she said that the manager must have been a very overbearing person [..........] deal [..........] . Joe said he wasn't so bad when you knew how [..........] take him, that he was a decent sort so long [..........] you didn't rub him the wrong way. Mrs Donnelly played the piano [..........] the children and they danced and sang. Then the two next-door girls handed [..........] the nuts. Nobody could find the nutcrackers and Joe was nearly getting cross [..........] it and asked how did they expect Maria [..........] crack nuts without a nutcracker. [..........] Maria said she didn't [..........] nuts and that they weren't [..........] bother [..........] her. Then Joe asked would she take a bottle [..........] stout and Mrs Donnelly said there was port wine too [..........] the house if she would prefer that. Maria said she would rather they didn't ask her [..........] take anything: [..........] Joe insisted.

So Maria let him have his way and they sat [..........] the fire talking [..........] old times and Maria thought she would put [..........] a good word [..........] Alphy. [..........] Joe cried that God might strike him stone dead if ever he spoke a word [..........] his brother again and Maria said she was sorry she had mentioned the matter. Mrs Donnelly told her husband it was a great shame [..........] him [..........] speak that way [..........] his own flesh and blood [..........] Joe said that Alphy was no brother [..........] his and there was nearly being a row [..........] the head [..........] it. [..........] Joe said he would not lose his temper [..........] account [..........] the night it was and asked his wife [..........] open some more stout. The two next-door girls had arranged some Hallow Eve games and soon everything was merry again. Maria was delighted [..........] see the children so merry and Joe and his wife [..........] such good spirits. The next-door girls put some saucers [..........] the table and then led the children [..........] [..........] the table, blindfold. One got the prayer-book and the other three got the water; and when one [..........] the next-door girls got the ring Mrs Donnelly shook her finger [..........] the blushing girl [..........] much [..........] [..........] say: O, I know all [..........] it! They insisted then [..........] blindfolding Maria and leading her [..........] [..........] the table [..........] see what she would get; and, while they were putting [..........] the bandage, Maria laughed and laughed again till the tip [..........] her nose nearly met the tip [..........] her chin.

They led her [..........] [..........] the table [..........] laughing and joking and she put her hand out [..........] the air [..........] she was told [..........] do. She moved her hand [..........] here and there [..........] the air and descended [..........] one [..........] the saucers. She felt a soft wet substance [..........] her fingers and was surprised that nobody spoke or took off her bandage. There was a pause [..........] a few seconds; and then a great deal [..........] scuffling and whispering. Somebody said something [..........] the garden, and [..........] last Mrs Donnelly said something very cross [..........] one [..........] the next-door girls and told her [..........] throw it out [..........] once: that was no play. Maria understood that it was wrong that time and so she had [..........] do it [..........] again: and this time she got the prayer-book.

[..........] that Mrs Donnelly played Miss McCloud's Reel [..........] the children and Joe made Maria take a glass [..........] wine. Soon they were all quite merry again and Mrs Donnelly said Maria would enter a convent [..........] the year was out because she had got the prayer-book. Maria had never seen Joe so nice [..........] her [..........] he was that night, so full [..........] pleasant talk and reminiscences. She said they were all very good [..........] her.

[..........] last the children grew tired and sleepy and Joe asked Maria would she not sing some little song [..........] she went, one [..........] the old songs. Mrs Donnelly said "Do, please, Maria!" and so Maria had [..........] get [..........] and stand [..........] the piano. Mrs Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen [..........] Maria's song. Then she played the prelude and said "Now, Maria!" and Maria, blushing very much began [..........] sing [..........] a tiny quavering voice. She sang I Dreamt that I Dwelt, and when she came [..........] the second verse she sang again:

            I dreamt that I dwelt  [..........] 
 marble halls
               [..........] 
 vassals and serfs  [..........] 
 my side
            And  [..........] 
 all who assembled within those walls
              That I was the hope and the pride.
            I had riches too great  [..........] 
 count, could boast
               [..........] 
 a high ancestral name,
             [..........] 
 I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
              That you loved me still the same.

[..........] no one tried [..........] show her her mistake; and when she had ended her song Joe was very much moved. He said that there was no time [..........] the long ago and no music [..........] him [..........] poor old Balfe, whatever other people might say; and his eyes filled [..........] so much [..........] tears that he could not find what he was looking [..........] and [..........] the end he had [..........] ask his wife [..........] tell him where the corkscrew was.

A PAINFUL CASE

MR JAMES DUFFY lived [..........] Chapelizod because he wished [..........] live [..........] far [..........] possible [..........] the city [..........] which he was a citizen and because he found all the other suburbs [..........] Dublin mean, modern and pretentious. He lived [..........] an old sombre house and [..........] his windows he could look into the disused distillery or upwards [..........] the shallow river [..........] which Dublin is built. The lofty walls [..........] his uncarpeted room were free [..........] pictures. He had himself bought every article [..........] furniture [..........] the room: a black iron bedstead, an iron washstand, four cane chairs, a clothes-rack, a coal-scuttle, a fender and irons and a square table [..........] which lay a double desk. A bookcase had been made [..........] an alcove [..........] means [..........] shelves [..........] white wood. The bed was clothed [..........] white bedclothes and a black and scarlet rug covered the foot. A little hand-mirror hung [..........] the washstand and [..........] the day a white-shaded lamp stood [..........] the sole ornament [..........] the mantelpiece. The books [..........] the white wooden shelves were arranged [..........] [..........] upwards according [..........] bulk. A complete Wordsworth stood [..........] one end [..........] the lowest shelf and a copy [..........] the Maynooth Catechism, sewn into the cloth cover [..........] a notebook, stood [..........] one end [..........] the top shelf. Writing materials were always [..........] the desk. [..........] the desk lay a manuscript translation [..........] Hauptmann's Michael Kramer, the stage directions [..........] which were written [..........] purple ink, and a little sheaf [..........] papers held together [..........] a brass pin. [..........] these sheets a sentence was inscribed [..........] time [..........] time and, [..........] an ironical moment, the headline [..........] an advertisement [..........] Bile Beans had been pasted [..........] [..........] the first sheet. [..........] lifting the lid [..........] the desk a faint fragrance escaped—the fragrance [..........] new cedarwood pencils or [..........] a bottle [..........] gum or [..........] an overripe apple which might have been left there and forgotten.

Mr Duffy abhorred anything which betokened physical or mental disorder. A mediæval doctor would have called him saturnine. His face, which carried the entire tale [..........] his years, was [..........] the brown tint [..........] Dublin streets. [..........] his long and rather large head grew dry black hair and a tawny moustache did not quite cover an unamiable mouth. His cheekbones also gave his face a harsh character; [..........] there was no harshness [..........] the eyes which, looking [..........] the world [..........] [..........] their tawny eyebrows, gave the impression [..........] a man ever alert [..........] greet a redeeming instinct [..........] others [..........] often disappointed. He lived [..........] a little distance [..........] his body, [..........] his own acts [..........] doubtful side-glances. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him [..........] compose [..........] his mind [..........] time [..........] time a short sentence [..........] himself containing a subject [..........] the third person and a predicate [..........] the [..........] tense. He never gave alms [..........] beggars and walked firmly, carrying a stout hazel.

He had been [..........] many years cashier [..........] a private bank [..........] Baggot Street. Every morning he came [..........] [..........] Chapelizod [..........] tram. [..........] midday he went [..........] Dan Burke's and took his lunch—a bottle [..........] lager beer and a small trayful [..........] arrowroot biscuits. [..........] four o'clock he was set free. He dined [..........] an eating-house [..........] George's Street where he felt himself safe [..........] the society [..........] Dublin's gilded youth and where there was a certain plain honesty [..........] the bill [..........] fare. His evenings were spent either [..........] his landlady's piano or roaming [..........] the outskirts [..........] the city. His liking [..........] Mozart's music brought him sometimes [..........] an opera or a concert: these were the only dissipations [..........] his life.

He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without any communion [..........] others, visiting his relatives [..........] Christmas and escorting them [..........] the cemetery when they died. He performed these two social duties [..........] old dignity's sake [..........] conceded nothing further [..........] the conventions which regulate the civic life. He allowed himself [..........] think that [..........] certain circumstances he would rob his bank [..........] , [..........] these circumstances never arose, his life rolled out evenly—an adventureless tale.

One evening he found himself sitting [..........] two ladies [..........] the Rotunda. The house, thinly peopled and silent, gave distressing prophecy [..........] failure. The lady who sat next him looked [..........] [..........] the deserted house once or twice and then said:

"What a pity there is such a poor house tonight! It's so hard [..........] people [..........] have [..........] sing [..........] empty benches."

He took the remark [..........] an invitation [..........] talk. He was surprised that she seemed so little awkward. While they talked he tried [..........] fix her permanently [..........] his memory. When he learned that the young girl [..........] her was her daughter he judged her [..........] be a year or so younger [..........] himself. Her face, which must have been handsome, had remained intelligent. It was an oval face [..........] strongly marked features. The eyes were very dark blue and steady. Their gaze began [..........] a defiant note [..........] was confused [..........] what seemed a deliberate swoon [..........] the pupil into the iris, revealing [..........] an instant a temperament [..........] great sensibility. The pupil reasserted itself quickly, this half-disclosed nature fell again [..........] the reign [..........] prudence, and her astrakhan jacket, moulding a bosom [..........] a certain fullness, struck the note [..........] defiance more definitely.

He met her again a few weeks afterwards [..........] a concert [..........] Earlsfort Terrace and seized the moments when her daughter's attention was diverted [..........] become intimate. She alluded once or twice [..........] her husband [..........] her tone was not such [..........] [..........] make the allusion a warning. Her name was Mrs Sinico. Her husband's great-great-grandfather had come [..........] Leghorn. Her husband was captain [..........] a mercantile boat plying [..........] Dublin and Holland; and they had one child.

Meeting her a third time [..........] accident he found courage [..........] make an appointment. She came. This was the first [..........] many meetings; they met always [..........] the evening and chose the most quiet quarters [..........] their walks together. Mr Duffy, however, had a distaste [..........] underhand ways and, finding that they were compelled [..........] meet stealthily, he forced her [..........] ask him [..........] her house. Captain Sinico encouraged his visits, thinking that his daughter's hand was [..........] question. He had dismissed his wife so sincerely [..........] his gallery [..........] pleasures that he did not suspect that anyone else would take an interest [..........] her. [..........] the husband was often away and the daughter out giving music lessons Mr Duffy had many opportunities [..........] enjoying the lady's society. Neither he nor she had had any such adventure [..........] and neither was conscious [..........] any incongruity. Little [..........] little he entangled his thoughts [..........] hers. He lent her books, provided her [..........] ideas, shared his intellectual life [..........] her. She listened [..........] all.

Sometimes [..........] return [..........] his theories she gave out some fact [..........] her own life. [..........] almost maternal solicitude she urged him [..........] let his nature open [..........] the full: she became his confessor. He told her that [..........] some time he had assisted [..........] the meetings [..........] an Irish Socialist Party where he had felt himself a unique figure amidst a score [..........] sober workmen [..........] a garret lit [..........] an inefficient oil-lamp. When the party had divided into three sections, each [..........] its own leader and [..........] its own garret, he had discontinued his attendances. The workmen's discussions, he said, were too timorous; the interest they took [..........] the question [..........] wages was inordinate. He felt that they were hard-featured realists and that they resented an exactitude which was the produce [..........] a leisure not within their reach. No social revolution, he told her, would be likely [..........] strike Dublin [..........] some centuries.

She asked him why did he not write out his thoughts. [..........] what, he asked her, [..........] careful scorn. [..........] compete [..........] phrasemongers, incapable [..........] thinking consecutively [..........] sixty seconds? [..........] submit himself [..........] the criticisms [..........] an obtuse middle class which entrusted its morality [..........] policemen and its fine arts [..........] impresarios?

He went often [..........] her little cottage [..........] Dublin; often they spent their evenings alone. Little [..........] little, [..........] their thoughts entangled, they spoke [..........] subjects less remote. Her companionship was [..........] a warm soil [..........] an exotic. Many times she allowed the dark [..........] fall upon them, refraining [..........] lighting the lamp. The dark discreet room, their isolation, the music that still vibrated [..........] their ears united them. This union exalted him, wore away the rough edges [..........] his character, emotionalised his mental life. Sometimes he caught himself listening [..........] the sound [..........] his own voice. He thought that [..........] her eyes he would ascend [..........] an angelical stature; and, [..........] he attached the fervent nature [..........] his companion more and more closely [..........] him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised [..........] his own, insisting [..........] the soul's incurable loneliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own. The end [..........] these discourses was that one night [..........] which she had shown every sign [..........] unusual excitement, Mrs Sinico caught [..........] his hand passionately and pressed it [..........] her cheek.

Mr Duffy was very much surprised. Her interpretation [..........] his words disillusioned him. He did not visit her [..........] a week, then he wrote [..........] her asking her [..........] meet him. [..........] he did not wish their last interview [..........] be troubled [..........] the influence [..........] their ruined confessional they met [..........] a little cakeshop [..........] the Parkgate. It was cold autumn weather [..........] [..........] spite [..........] the cold they wandered [..........] and [..........] the roads [..........] the Park [..........] nearly three hours. They agreed [..........] break off their intercourse: every bond, he said, is a bond [..........] sorrow. When they came out [..........] the Park they walked [..........] silence towards the tram; [..........] here she began [..........] tremble so violently that, fearing another collapse [..........] her part, he bade her good-bye quickly and left her. A few days later he received a parcel containing his books and music.

Four years passed. Mr Duffy returned [..........] his even way [..........] life. His room still bore witness [..........] the orderliness [..........] his mind. Some new pieces [..........] music encumbered the music-stand [..........] the lower room and [..........] his shelves stood two volumes [..........] Nietzsche: Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Gay Science. He wrote seldom [..........] the sheaf [..........] papers which lay [..........] his desk. One [..........] his sentences, written two months [..........] his last interview [..........] Mrs Sinico, read: Love [..........] man and man is impossible because there must not be sexual intercourse and friendship [..........] man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse. He kept away [..........] concerts lest he should meet her. His father died; the junior partner [..........] the bank retired. And still every morning he went into the city [..........] tram and every evening walked home [..........] the city [..........] having dined moderately [..........] George's Street and read the evening paper [..........] dessert.

One evening [..........] he was [..........] [..........] put a morsel [..........] corned beef and cabbage into his mouth his hand stopped. His eyes fixed themselves [..........] a paragraph [..........] the evening paper which he had propped [..........] the water-carafe. He replaced the morsel [..........] food [..........] his plate and read the paragraph attentively. Then he drank a glass [..........] water, pushed his plate [..........] one side, doubled the paper [..........] [..........] him [..........] his elbows and read the paragraph [..........] and [..........] again. The cabbage began [..........] deposit a cold white grease [..........] his plate. The girl came [..........] [..........] him [..........] ask was his dinner not properly cooked. He said it was very good and ate a few mouthfuls [..........] it [..........] difficulty. Then he paid his bill and went out.

He walked [..........] quickly [..........] the November twilight, his stout hazel stick striking the ground regularly, the fringe [..........] the buff Mail peeping out [..........] a side-pocket [..........] his tight reefer overcoat. [..........] the lonely road which leads [..........] the Parkgate [..........] Chapelizod he slackened his pace. His stick struck the ground less emphatically and his breath, issuing irregularly, almost [..........] a sighing sound, condensed [..........] the wintry air. When he reached his house he went [..........] [..........] once [..........] his bedroom and, taking the paper [..........] his pocket, read the paragraph again [..........] the failing light [..........] the window. He read it not aloud, [..........] moving his lips [..........] a priest does when he reads the prayers Secreto. This was the paragraph:

               DEATH  [..........] 
 A LADY  [..........] 
 SYDNEY PARADE
                       A PAINFUL CASE

Today [..........] the City [..........] Dublin Hospital the Deputy Coroner ( [..........] the absence [..........] Mr Leverett) held an inquest [..........] the body [..........] Mrs Emily Sinico, aged forty-three years, who was killed [..........] Sydney Parade Station yesterday evening. The evidence showed that the deceased lady, while attempting [..........] cross the line, was knocked [..........] [..........] the engine [..........] the ten o'clock slow train [..........] Kingstown, thereby sustaining injuries [..........] the head and right side which led [..........] her death.

James Lennon, driver [..........] the engine, stated that he had been [..........] the employment [..........] the railway company [..........] fifteen years. [..........] hearing the guard's whistle he set the train [..........] motion and a second or two afterwards brought it [..........] rest [..........] response [..........] loud cries. The train was going slowly.

P. Dunne, railway porter, stated that [..........] the train was [..........] [..........] start he observed a woman attempting [..........] cross the lines. He ran towards her and shouted, [..........] , [..........] he could reach her, she was caught [..........] the buffer [..........] the engine and fell [..........] the ground.

A juror. "You saw the lady fall?"

Witness. "Yes."

Police Sergeant Croly deposed that when he arrived he found the deceased lying [..........] the platform apparently dead. He had the body taken [..........] the waiting-room pending the arrival [..........] the ambulance.

Constable 57E corroborated.

Dr Halpin, assistant house surgeon [..........] the City [..........] Dublin Hospital, stated that the deceased had two lower ribs fractured and had sustained severe contusions [..........] the right shoulder. The right side [..........] the head had been injured [..........] the fall. The injuries were not sufficient [..........] have caused death [..........] a normal person. Death, [..........] his opinion, had been probably due [..........] shock and sudden failure [..........] the heart's action.

Mr H. B. Patterson Finlay, [..........] behalf [..........] the railway company, expressed his deep regret [..........] the accident. The company had always taken every precaution [..........] prevent people crossing the lines [..........] [..........] the bridges, both [..........] placing notices [..........] every station and [..........] the use [..........] patent spring gates [..........] level crossings. The deceased had been [..........] the habit [..........] crossing the lines late [..........] night [..........] platform [..........] platform and, [..........] view [..........] certain other circumstances [..........] the case, he did not think the railway officials were [..........] blame.

Captain Sinico, [..........] Leoville, Sydney Parade, husband [..........] the deceased, also gave evidence. He stated that the deceased was his wife. He was not [..........] Dublin [..........] the time [..........] the accident [..........] he had arrived only that morning [..........] Rotterdam. They had been married [..........] twenty-two years and had lived happily [..........] [..........] two years ago when his wife began [..........] be rather intemperate [..........] her habits.

Miss Mary Sinico said that [..........] late her mother had been [..........] the habit [..........] going out [..........] night [..........] buy spirits. She, witness, had often tried [..........] reason [..........] her mother and had induced her [..........] join a league. She was not [..........] home [..........] an hour [..........] the accident. The jury returned a verdict [..........] accordance [..........] the medical evidence and exonerated Lennon [..........] all blame.

The Deputy Coroner said it was a most painful case, and expressed great sympathy [..........] Captain Sinico and his daughter. He urged [..........] the railway company [..........] take strong measures [..........] prevent the possibility [..........] similar accidents [..........] the future. No blame attached [..........] anyone.

Mr Duffy raised his eyes [..........] the paper and gazed out [..........] his window [..........] the cheerless evening landscape. The river lay quiet [..........] the empty distillery and [..........] time [..........] time a light appeared [..........] some house [..........] the Lucan road. What an end! The whole narrative [..........] her death revolted him and it revolted him [..........] think that he had ever spoken [..........] her [..........] what he held sacred. The threadbare phrases, the inane expressions [..........] sympathy, the cautious words [..........] a reporter won [..........] [..........] conceal the details [..........] a commonplace vulgar death attacked his stomach. Not merely had she degraded herself; she had degraded him. He saw the squalid tract [..........] her vice, miserable and malodorous. His soul's companion! He thought [..........] the hobbling wretches whom he had seen carrying cans and bottles [..........] be filled [..........] the barman. Just God, what an end! Evidently she had been unfit [..........] live, without any strength [..........] purpose, an easy prey [..........] habits, one [..........] the wrecks [..........] which civilisation has been reared. [..........] that she could have sunk so low! Was it possible he had deceived himself so utterly [..........] her? He remembered her outburst [..........] that night and interpreted it [..........] a harsher sense [..........] he had ever done. He had no difficulty now [..........] approving [..........] the course he had taken.

[..........] the light failed and his memory began [..........] wander he thought her hand touched his. The shock which had first attacked his stomach was now attacking his nerves. He put [..........] his overcoat and hat quickly and went out. The cold air met him [..........] the threshold; it crept into the sleeves [..........] his coat. When he came [..........] the public-house [..........] Chapelizod Bridge he went [..........] and ordered a hot punch.

The proprietor served him obsequiously [..........] did not venture [..........] talk. There were five or six workingmen [..........] the shop discussing the value [..........] a gentleman's estate [..........] County Kildare. They drank [..........] intervals [..........] their huge pint tumblers and smoked, spitting often [..........] the floor and sometimes dragging the sawdust [..........] their spits [..........] their heavy boots. Mr Duffy sat [..........] his stool and gazed [..........] them, without seeing or hearing them. [..........] a while they went out and he called [..........] another punch. He sat a long time [..........] it. The shop was very quiet. The proprietor sprawled [..........] the counter reading the Herald and yawning. Now and again a tram was heard swishing [..........] the lonely road [..........] .

[..........] he sat there, living [..........] his life [..........] her and evoking alternately the two images [..........] which he now conceived her, he realised that she was dead, that she had ceased [..........] exist, that she had become a memory. He began [..........] feel ill [..........] ease. He asked himself what else could he have done. He could not have carried [..........] a comedy [..........] deception [..........] her; he could not have lived [..........] her openly. He had done what seemed [..........] him best. How was he [..........] blame? Now that she was gone he understood how lonely her life must have been, sitting night [..........] night alone [..........] that room. His life would be lonely too [..........] he, too, died, ceased [..........] exist, became a memory—if anyone remembered him.

It was [..........] nine o'clock when he left the shop. The night was cold and gloomy. He entered the Park [..........] the first gate and walked [..........] [..........] the gaunt trees. He walked [..........] the bleak alleys where they had walked four years [..........] . She seemed [..........] be [..........] him [..........] the darkness. [..........] moments he seemed [..........] feel her voice touch his ear, her hand touch his. He stood still [..........] listen. Why had he withheld life [..........] her? Why had he sentenced her [..........] death? He felt his moral nature falling [..........] pieces.

When he gained the crest [..........] the Magazine Hill he halted and looked [..........] the river towards Dublin, the lights [..........] which burned redly and hospitably [..........] the cold night. He looked [..........] the slope and, [..........] the base, [..........] the shadow [..........] the wall [..........] the Park, he saw some human figures lying. Those venal and furtive loves filled him [..........] despair. He gnawed the rectitude [..........] his life; he felt that he had been outcast [..........] life's feast. One human being had seemed [..........] love him and he had denied her life and happiness: he had sentenced her [..........] ignominy, a death [..........] shame. He knew that the prostrate creatures [..........] [..........] the wall were watching him and wished him gone. No one wanted him; he was outcast [..........] life's feast. He turned his eyes [..........] the grey gleaming river, winding [..........] towards Dublin. [..........] the river he saw a goods train winding out [..........] Kingsbridge Station, [..........] a worm [..........] a fiery head winding [..........] the darkness, obstinately and laboriously. It passed slowly out [..........] sight; [..........] still he heard [..........] his ears the laborious drone [..........] the engine reiterating the syllables [..........] her name.

He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm [..........] the engine pounding [..........] his ears. He began [..........] doubt the reality [..........] what memory told him. He halted [..........] a tree and allowed the rhythm [..........] die away. He could not feel her [..........] him [..........] the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited [..........] some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.

IVY DAY [..........] THE COMMITTEE ROOM

OLD JACK raked the cinders together [..........] a piece [..........] cardboard and spread them judiciously [..........] the whitening dome [..........] coals. When the dome was thinly covered his face lapsed into darkness [..........] , [..........] he set himself [..........] fan the fire again, his crouching shadow ascended the [..........] wall and his face slowly re-emerged into light. It was an old man's face, very bony and hairy. The moist blue eyes blinked [..........] the fire and the moist mouth fell open [..........] times, munching once or twice mechanically when it closed. When the cinders had caught he laid the piece [..........] cardboard [..........] the wall, sighed and said:

"That's better now, Mr O'Connor."

Mr O'Connor, a grey-haired young man, whose face was disfigured [..........] many blotches and pimples, had just brought the tobacco [..........] a cigarette into a shapely cylinder [..........] when spoken [..........] he undid his handiwork meditatively. Then he began [..........] roll the tobacco again meditatively and [..........] a moment's thought decided [..........] lick the paper.

"Did Mr Tierney say when he'd be back?" he asked [..........] a husky falsetto.

"He didn't say."

Mr O'Connor put his cigarette into his mouth and began [..........] search his pockets. He took out a pack [..........] thin pasteboard cards.

"I'll get you a match," said the old man.

"Never mind, this'll do," said Mr O'Connor.

He selected one [..........] the cards and read what was printed [..........] it:

      MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS
           —————
      ROYAL EXCHANGE WARD
           —————

Mr Richard J. Tierney, P.L.G., respectfully solicits the favour [..........] your vote and influence [..........] the coming election [..........] the Royal Exchange Ward.

           —————

Mr O'Connor had been engaged [..........] Tierney's agent [..........] canvass one part [..........] the ward [..........] , [..........] the weather was inclement and his boots let [..........] the wet, he spent a great part [..........] the day sitting [..........] the fire [..........] the Committee Room [..........] Wicklow Street [..........] Jack, the old caretaker. They had been sitting thus [..........] the short day had grown dark. It was the sixth [..........] October, dismal and cold out [..........] doors.

Mr O'Connor tore a strip off the card and, lighting it, lit his cigarette. [..........] he did so the flame lit [..........] a leaf [..........] dark glossy ivy [..........] the lapel [..........] his coat. The old man watched him attentively and then, taking [..........] the piece [..........] cardboard again, began [..........] fan the fire slowly while his companion smoked.

"Ah, yes," he said, continuing, "it's hard [..........] know what way [..........] bring [..........] children. Now who'd think he'd turn out [..........] that! I sent him [..........] the Christian Brothers and I done what I could [..........] him, and there he goes boosing [..........] . I tried [..........] make him someway decent."

He replaced the cardboard wearily.

"Only I'm an old man now I'd change his tune [..........] him. I'd take the stick [..........] his back and beat him while I could stand [..........] him— [..........] I done many a time [..........] . The mother, you know, she cocks him [..........] [..........] this and that...."

"That's what ruins children," said Mr O'Connor.

" [..........] be sure it is," said the old man. "And little thanks you get [..........] it, only impudence. He takes th'upper hand [..........] me whenever he sees I've a sup taken. What's the world coming [..........] when sons speaks that way [..........] their father?"

"What age is he?" said Mr O'Connor.

"Nineteen," said the old man.

"Why don't you put him [..........] something?"

"Sure, amn't I never done [..........] the drunken bowsy ever [..........] he left school? 'I won't keep you,' I says. 'You must get a job [..........] yourself.' [..........] , sure, it's worse whenever he gets a job; he drinks it all."

Mr O'Connor shook his head [..........] sympathy, and the old man fell silent, gazing into the fire. Someone opened the door [..........] the room and called out:

"Hello! Is this a Freemasons' meeting?"

"Who's that?" said the old man.

"What are you doing [..........] the dark?" asked a voice.

"Is that you, Hynes?" asked Mr O'Connor.

"Yes. What are you doing [..........] the dark?" said Mr Hynes. advancing into the light [..........] the fire.

He was a tall, slender young man [..........] a light brown moustache. Imminent little drops [..........] rain hung [..........] the brim [..........] his hat and the collar [..........] his jacket-coat was turned [..........] .

"Well, Mat," he said [..........] Mr O'Connor, "how goes it?"

Mr O'Connor shook his head. The old man left the hearth and, [..........] stumbling [..........] the room returned [..........] two candlesticks which he thrust one [..........] the other into the fire and carried [..........] the table. A denuded room came into view and the fire lost all its cheerful colour. The walls [..........] the room were bare [..........] [..........] a copy [..........] an election address. [..........] the middle [..........] the room was a small table [..........] which papers were heaped.

Mr Hynes leaned [..........] the mantelpiece and asked:

"Has he paid you yet?"

"Not yet," said Mr O'Connor. "I hope [..........] God he'll not leave us [..........] the lurch tonight."

Mr Hynes laughed.

"O, he'll pay you. Never fear," he said.

"I hope he'll look smart [..........] it if he means business," said Mr O'Connor.

"What do you think, Jack?" said Mr Hynes satirically [..........] the old man.

The old man returned [..........] his seat [..........] the fire, saying:

"It isn't [..........] he has it, anyway. Not [..........] the other tinker."

"What other tinker?" said Mr Hynes.

"Colgan," said the old man scornfully.

"It is because Colgan's a working-man you say that? What's the difference [..........] a good honest bricklayer and a publican—eh? Hasn't the working-man [..........] good a right [..........] be [..........] the Corporation [..........] anyone else—ay, and a better right [..........] those shoneens that are always hat [..........] hand [..........] any fellow [..........] a handle [..........] his name? Isn't that so, Mat?" said Mr Hynes, addressing Mr O'Connor.

"I think you're right," said Mr O'Connor.

"One man is a plain honest man [..........] no hunker-sliding [..........] him. He goes [..........] [..........] represent the labour classes. This fellow you're working [..........] only wants [..........] get some job or other."

" [..........] course, the working-classes should be represented," said the old man.

"The working-man," said Mr Hynes, "gets all kicks and no halfpence. [..........] it's labour produces everything. The working-man is not looking [..........] fat jobs [..........] his sons and nephews and cousins. The working-man is not going [..........] drag the honour [..........] Dublin [..........] the mud [..........] please a German monarch."

"How's that?" said the old man.

"Don't you know they want [..........] present an address [..........] welcome [..........] Edward Rex if he comes here next year? What do we want kowtowing [..........] a foreign king?"

"Our man won't vote [..........] the address," said Mr O'Connor. "He goes [..........] [..........] the Nationalist ticket."

"Won't he?" said Mr Hynes. "Wait till you see whether he will or not. I know him. Is it Tricky Dicky Tierney?"

" [..........] God! perhaps you're right, Joe," said Mr O'Connor. "Anyway, I wish he'd turn [..........] [..........] the spondulics."

The three men fell silent. The old man began [..........] rake more cinders together. Mr Hynes took off his hat, shook it and then turned [..........] the collar [..........] his coat, displaying, [..........] he did so, an ivy leaf [..........] the lapel.

"If this man was alive," he said, pointing [..........] the leaf, "we'd have no talk [..........] an address [..........] welcome."

"That's true," said Mr O'Connor.

"Musha, God be [..........] them times!" said the old man. "There was some life [..........] it then."

The room was silent again. Then a bustling little man [..........] a snuffling nose and very cold ears pushed [..........] the door. He walked [..........] quickly [..........] the fire, rubbing his hands [..........] if he intended [..........] produce a spark [..........] them.

"No money, boys," he said.

"Sit [..........] here, Mr Henchy," said the old man, offering him his chair.

"O, don't stir, Jack, don't stir," said Mr Henchy.

He nodded curtly [..........] Mr Hynes and sat [..........] [..........] the chair which the old man vacated.

"Did you serve Aungier Street?" he asked Mr O'Connor.

"Yes," said Mr O'Connor, beginning [..........] search his pockets [..........] memoranda.

"Did you call [..........] Grimes?"

"I did."

"Well? How does he stand?"

"He wouldn't promise. He said: 'I won't tell anyone what way I'm going [..........] vote.' [..........] I think he'll be all right."

"Why so?"

"He asked me who the nominators were; and I told him. I mentioned Father Burke's name. I think it'll be all right."

Mr Henchy began [..........] snuffle and [..........] rub his hands [..........] the fire [..........] a terrific speed. Then he said:

" [..........] the love [..........] God, Jack, bring us a bit [..........] coal. There must be some left."

The old man went out [..........] the room.

"It's no go," said Mr Henchy, shaking his head. "I asked the little shoeboy, [..........] he said: 'Oh, now, Mr Henchy, when I see work going [..........] properly I won't forget you, you may be sure.' Mean little tinker! 'Usha, how could he be anything else?"

"What did I tell you, Mat?" said Mr Hynes. "Tricky Dicky Tierney."

"O, he's [..........] tricky [..........] they make 'em," said Mr Henchy. "He hasn't got those little pigs' eyes [..........] nothing. Blast his soul! Couldn't he pay [..........] [..........] a man instead [..........] : 'O, now, Mr Henchy, I must speak [..........] Mr Fanning.... I've spent a lot [..........] money'? Mean little shoeboy [..........] hell! I suppose he forgets the time his little old father kept the hand-me- [..........] shop [..........] Mary's Lane."

" [..........] is that a fact?" asked Mr O'Connor.

"God, yes," said Mr Henchy. "Did you never hear that? And the men used [..........] go [..........] [..........] Sunday morning [..........] the houses were open [..........] buy a waistcoat or a trousers—moya! [..........] Tricky Dicky's little old father always had a tricky little black bottle [..........] [..........] a corner. Do you mind now? That's that. That's where he first saw the light."

The old man returned [..........] a few lumps [..........] coal which he placed here and there [..........] the fire.

"Thats a nice how-do-you-do," said Mr O'Connor. "How does he expect us [..........] work [..........] him if he won't stump [..........] ?"

"I can't help it," said Mr Henchy. "I expect [..........] find the bailiffs [..........] the hall when I go home."

Mr Hynes laughed and, shoving himself away [..........] the mantelpiece [..........] the aid [..........] his shoulders, made ready [..........] leave.

"It'll be all right when King Eddie comes," he said. "Well boys, I'm off [..........] the present. See you later. 'Bye, 'bye."

He went out [..........] the room slowly. Neither Mr Henchy nor the old man said anything [..........] , just [..........] the door was closing, Mr O'Connor, who had been staring moodily into the fire, called out suddenly:

"'Bye, Joe."

Mr Henchy waited a few moments and then nodded [..........] the direction [..........] the door.

"Tell me," he said [..........] the fire, "what brings our friend [..........] here? What does he want?"

"'Usha, poor Joe!" said Mr O'Connor, throwing the end [..........] his cigarette into the fire, "he's hard [..........] , [..........] the rest [..........] us."

Mr Henchy snuffled vigorously and spat so copiously that he nearly put out the fire, which uttered a hissing protest.

" [..........] tell you my private and candid opinion," he said, "I think he's a man [..........] the other camp. He's a spy [..........] Colgan's, if you ask me. Just go [..........] and try and find out how they're getting [..........] . They won't suspect you. Do you twig?"

"Ah, poor Joe is a decent skin," said Mr O'Connor.

"His father was a decent respectable man," Mr Henchy admitted. "Poor old Larry Hynes! Many a good turn he did [..........] his day! [..........] I'm greatly afraid our friend is not nineteen carat. Damn it, I can understand a fellow being hard [..........] , [..........] what I can't understand is a fellow sponging. Couldn't he have some spark [..........] manhood [..........] him?"

"He doesn't get a warm welcome [..........] me when he comes," said the old man. "Let him work [..........] his own side and not come spying [..........] here."

"I don't know," said Mr O'Connor dubiously, [..........] he took out cigarette-papers and tobacco. "I think Joe Hynes is a straight man. He's a clever chap, too, [..........] the pen. Do you remember that thing he wrote...?"

"Some [..........] these hillsiders and fenians are a bit too clever if you ask me," said Mr Henchy. "Do you know what my private and candid opinion is [..........] some [..........] those little jokers? I believe half [..........] them are [..........] the pay [..........] the Castle."

"There's no knowing," said the old man.

"O, [..........] I know it [..........] a fact," said Mr Henchy. "They're Castle hacks.... I don't say Hynes.... No, damn it, I think he's a stroke [..........] that.... [..........] there's a certain little nobleman [..........] a cock-eye—you know the patriot I'm alluding [..........] ?"

Mr O'Connor nodded.

"There's a lineal descendant [..........] Major Sirr [..........] you if you [..........] ! O, the heart's blood [..........] a patriot! That's a fellow now that'd sell his country [..........] fourpence—ay—and go [..........] [..........] his bended knees and thank the Almighty Christ he had a country [..........] sell."

There was a knock [..........] the door.

"Come [..........] !" said Mr Henchy.

A person resembling a poor clergyman or a poor actor appeared [..........] the doorway. His black clothes were tightly buttoned [..........] his short body and it was impossible [..........] say whether he wore a clergyman's collar or a layman's, because the collar [..........] his shabby frock-coat, the uncovered buttons [..........] which reflected the candlelight, was turned [..........] [..........] his neck. He wore a [..........] hat [..........] hard black felt. His face, shining [..........] raindrops, had the appearance [..........] damp yellow cheese [..........] where two rosy spots indicated the cheekbones. He opened his very long mouth suddenly [..........] express disappointment and [..........] the same time opened wide his very bright blue eyes [..........] express pleasure and surprise.

"O Father Keon!" said Mr Henchy, jumping [..........] [..........] his chair. "Is that you? Come [..........] !"

"O, no, no, no!" said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips [..........] if he were addressing a child.

"Won't you come [..........] and sit [..........] ?"

"No, no, no!" said Father Keon, speaking [..........] a discreet indulgent velvety voice. "Don't let me disturb you now! I'm just looking [..........] Mr Fanning...."

"He's [..........] [..........] the Black Eagle," said Mr Henchy. " [..........] won't you come [..........] and sit [..........] a minute?"

"No, no, thank you. It was just a little business matter," said Father Keon. "Thank you, indeed."

He retreated [..........] the doorway and Mr Henchy, seizing one [..........] the candlesticks, went [..........] the door [..........] light him downstairs.

"O, don't trouble, I beg!"

"No, [..........] the stairs is so dark."

"No, no, I can see.... Thank you, indeed."

"Are you right now?"

"All right, thanks.... Thanks."

Mr Henchy returned [..........] the candlestick and put it [..........] the table. He sat [..........] again [..........] the fire. There was silence [..........] a few moments.

"Tell me, John," said Mr O'Connor, lighting his cigarette [..........] another pasteboard card.

"Hm?"

"What he is exactly?"

"Ask me an easier one," said Mr Henchy.

"Fanning and himself seem [..........] me very thick. They're often [..........] Kavanagh's together. Is he a priest [..........] all?"

"Mmmyes, I believe so.... I think he's what you call a black sheep. We haven't many [..........] them, thank God! [..........] we have a few.... He's an unfortunate man [..........] some kind...."

"And how does he knock it out?" asked Mr O'Connor.

"That's another mystery."

"Is he attached [..........] any chapel or church or institution or——"

"No," said Mr Henchy, "I think he's travelling [..........] his own account.... God forgive me," he added, "I thought he was the dozen [..........] stout."

"Is there any chance [..........] a drink itself?" asked Mr O'Connor.

"I'm dry too," said the old man.

"I asked that little shoeboy three times," said Mr Henchy, "would he send [..........] a dozen [..........] stout. I asked him again now, [..........] he was leaning [..........] the counter [..........] his shirt-sleeves having a deep goster [..........] Alderman Cowley."

"Why didn't you remind him?" said Mr O'Connor.

"Well, I couldn't go [..........] while he was talking [..........] Alderman Cowley. I just waited till I caught his eye, and said: ' [..........] that little matter I was speaking [..........] you [..........] ....' 'That'll be all right, Mr H.,' he said. Yerra, sure the little hop-o'-my-thumb has forgotten all [..........] it."

"There's some deal [..........] [..........] that quarter," said Mr O'Connor thoughtfully. "I saw the three [..........] them hard [..........] it yesterday [..........] Suffolk Street corner."

"I think I know the little game they're [..........] ," said Mr Henchy. "You must owe the City Fathers money nowadays if you want [..........] be made Lord Mayor. Then they'll make you Lord Mayor. [..........] God! I'm thinking seriously [..........] becoming a City Father myself. What do you think? Would I do [..........] the job?"

Mr O'Connor laughed.

"So far [..........] owing money goes...."

"Driving out [..........] the Mansion House," said Mr Henchy, " [..........] all my vermin, [..........] Jack here standing [..........] [..........] me [..........] a powdered wig—eh?"

"And make me your private secretary, John."

"Yes. And I'll make Father Keon my private chaplain. We'll have a family party."

"Faith, Mr Henchy," said the old man, "you'd keep [..........] better style [..........] some [..........] them. I was talking one day [..........] old Keegan, the porter. 'And how do you [..........] your new master, Pat?' says I [..........] him. 'You haven't much entertaining now,' says I. 'Entertaining!' says he. 'He'd live [..........] the smell [..........] an oil-rag.' And do you know what he told me? Now, I declare [..........] God I didn't believe him."

"What?" said Mr Henchy and Mr O'Connor.

"He told me: 'What do you think [..........] a Lord Mayor [..........] Dublin sending out [..........] a pound [..........] chops [..........] his dinner? How's that [..........] high living?' says he. 'Wisha! wisha,' says I. 'A pound [..........] chops,' says he, 'coming into the Mansion House.' 'Wisha!' says I, 'what kind [..........] people is going [..........] all now?'"

[..........] this point there was a knock [..........] the door, and a boy put [..........] his head.

"What is it?" said the old man.

" [..........] the Black Eagle," said the boy, walking [..........] sideways and depositing a basket [..........] the floor [..........] a noise [..........] shaken bottles.

The old man helped the boy [..........] transfer the bottles [..........] the basket [..........] the table and counted the full tally. [..........] the transfer the boy put his basket [..........] his arm and asked:

"Any bottles?"

"What bottles?" said the old man.

"Won't you let us drink them first?" said Mr Henchy.

"I was told [..........] ask [..........] the bottles."

"Come back tomorrow," said the old man.

"Here, boy!" said Mr Henchy, "will you run [..........] [..........] O'Farrell's and ask him [..........] lend us a corkscrew— [..........] Mr Henchy, say. Tell him we won't keep it a minute. Leave the basket there."

The boy went out and Mr Henchy began [..........] rub his hands cheerfully, saying:

"Ah, well, he's not so bad [..........] all. He's [..........] good [..........] his word, anyhow."

"There's no tumblers," said the old man.

"O, don't let that trouble you, Jack," said Mr Henchy. "Many's the good man [..........] now drank out [..........] the bottle."

"Anyway, it's better [..........] nothing," said Mr O'Connor.

"He's not a bad sort," said Mr Henchy, "only Fanning has such a loan [..........] him. He means well, you know, [..........] his own tinpot way."

The boy came back [..........] the corkscrew. The old man opened three bottles and was handing back the corkscrew when Mr Henchy said [..........] the boy:

"Would you [..........] a drink, boy?"

"If you please, sir," said the boy.

The old man opened another bottle grudgingly, and handed it [..........] the boy.

"What age are you?" he asked.

"Seventeen," said the boy.

[..........] the old man said nothing further, the boy took the bottle and said: "Here's my best respects, sir," [..........] Mr Henchy, drank the contents, put the bottle back [..........] the table and wiped his mouth [..........] his sleeve. Then he took [..........] the corkscrew and went out [..........] the door sideways, muttering some form [..........] salutation.

"That's the way it begins," said the old man.

"The thin edge [..........] the wedge," said Mr Henchy.

The old man distributed the three bottles which he had opened and the men drank [..........] them simultaneously. [..........] having drunk each placed his bottle [..........] the mantelpiece within hand's reach and drew [..........] a long breath [..........] satisfaction.

"Well, I did a good day's work today," said Mr Henchy, [..........] a pause.

"That so, John?"

"Yes. I got him one or two sure things [..........] Dawson Street, Crofton and myself. [..........] ourselves, you know, Crofton (he's a decent chap, [..........] course), [..........] he's not worth a damn [..........] a canvasser. He hasn't a word [..........] throw [..........] a dog. He stands and looks [..........] the people while I do the talking."

Here two men entered the room. One [..........] them was a very fat man whose blue serge clothes seemed [..........] be [..........] danger [..........] falling [..........] his sloping figure. He had a big face which resembled a young ox's face [..........] expression, staring blue eyes and a grizzled moustache. The other man, who was much younger and frailer, had a thin, clean-shaven face. He wore a very high double collar and a wide-brimmed bowler hat.

"Hello, Crofton!" said Mr Henchy [..........] the fat man. "Talk [..........] the devil...."

"Where did the boose come [..........] ?" asked the young man. "Did the cow calve?"

"O, [..........] course, Lyons spots the drink first thing!" said Mr O'Connor, laughing.

"Is that the way you chaps canvass," said Mr Lyons, "and Crofton and I out [..........] the cold and rain looking [..........] votes?"

"Why, blast your soul," said Mr Henchy, "I'd get more votes [..........] five minutes [..........] you two'd get [..........] a week."

"Open two bottles [..........] stout, Jack," said Mr O'Connor.

"How can I?" said the old man, "when there's no corkscrew?"

"Wait now, wait now!" said Mr Henchy, getting [..........] quickly. "Did you ever see this little trick?"

He took two bottles [..........] the table and, carrying them [..........] the fire, put them [..........] the hob. Then he sat [..........] again [..........] the fire and took another drink [..........] his bottle. Mr Lyons sat [..........] the edge [..........] the table, pushed his hat towards the nape [..........] his neck and began [..........] swing his legs.

"Which is my bottle?" he asked.

"This lad," said Mr Henchy.

Mr Crofton sat [..........] [..........] a box and looked fixedly [..........] the other bottle [..........] the hob. He was silent [..........] two reasons. The first reason, sufficient [..........] itself, was that he had nothing [..........] say; the second reason was that he considered his companions [..........] him. He had been a canvasser [..........] Wilkins, the Conservative, [..........] when the Conservatives had withdrawn their man and, choosing the lesser [..........] two evils, given their support [..........] the Nationalist candidate, he had been engaged [..........] work [..........] Mr Tierney.

[..........] a few minutes an apologetic "Pok!" was heard [..........] the cork flew out [..........] Mr Lyons' bottle. Mr Lyons jumped off the table, went [..........] the fire, took his bottle and carried it back [..........] the table.

"I was just telling them, Crofton," said Mr Henchy, "that we got a good few votes today."

"Who did you get?" asked Mr Lyons.

"Well, I got Parkes [..........] one, and I got Atkinson [..........] two, and got Ward [..........] Dawson Street. Fine old chap he is, too—regular old toff, old Conservative! ' [..........] isn't your candidate a Nationalist?' said he. 'He's a respectable man,' said I. 'He's [..........] favour [..........] whatever will benefit this country. He's a big ratepayer,' I said. 'He has extensive house property [..........] the city and three places [..........] business and isn't it [..........] his own advantage [..........] keep [..........] the rates? He's a prominent and respected citizen,' said I, 'and a Poor Law Guardian, and he doesn't belong [..........] any party, good, bad, or indifferent.' That's the way [..........] talk [..........] 'em."

"And what [..........] the address [..........] the King?" said Mr Lyons, [..........] drinking and smacking his lips.

"Listen [..........] me," said Mr Henchy. "What we want [..........] this country, [..........] I said [..........] old Ward, is capital. The King's coming here will mean an influx [..........] money into this country. The citizens [..........] Dublin will benefit [..........] it. Look [..........] all the factories [..........] [..........] the quays there, idle! Look [..........] all the money there is [..........] the country if we only worked the old industries, the mills, the ship-building yards and factories. It's capital we want."

" [..........] look here, John," said Mr O'Connor. "Why should we welcome the King [..........] England? Didn't Parnell himself...."

"Parnell," said Mr Henchy, "is dead. Now, here's the way I look [..........] it. Here's this chap come [..........] the throne [..........] his old mother keeping him out [..........] it till the man was grey. He's a man [..........] the world, and he means well [..........] us. He's a jolly fine decent fellow, if you ask me, and no damn nonsense [..........] him. He just says [..........] himself: 'The old one never went [..........] see these wild Irish. [..........] Christ, I'll go myself and see what they're [..........] .' And are we going [..........] insult the man when he comes [..........] here [..........] a friendly visit? Eh? Isn't that right, Crofton?"

Mr Crofton nodded his head.

" [..........] [..........] all now," said Mr Lyons argumentatively, "King Edward's life, you know, is not the very...."

"Let bygones be bygones," said Mr Henchy. "I admire the man personally. He's just an ordinary knockabout [..........] you and me. He's fond [..........] his glass [..........] grog and he's a bit [..........] a rake, perhaps, and he's a good sportsman. Damn it, can't we Irish play fair?"

"That's all very fine," said Mr Lyons. " [..........] look [..........] the case [..........] Parnell now."

" [..........] the name [..........] God," said Mr Henchy, "where's the analogy [..........] the two cases?"

"What I mean," said Mr Lyons, "is we have our ideals. Why, now, would we welcome a man [..........] that? Do you think now [..........] what he did Parnell was a fit man [..........] lead us? And why, then, would we do it [..........] Edward the Seventh?"

"This is Parnell's anniversary," said Mr O'Connor, "and don't let us stir [..........] any bad blood. We all respect him now that he's dead and gone—even the Conservatives," he added, turning [..........] Mr Crofton.

Pok! The tardy cork flew out [..........] Mr Crofton's bottle. Mr Crofton got [..........] [..........] his box and went [..........] the fire. [..........] he returned [..........] his capture he said [..........] a deep voice:

"Our side [..........] the house respects him, because he was a gentleman."

"Right you are, Crofton!" said Mr Henchy fiercely. "He was the only man that could keep that bag [..........] cats [..........] order. ' [..........] , ye dogs! Lie [..........] , ye curs!' That's the way he treated them. Come [..........] , Joe! Come [..........] !" he called out, catching sight [..........] Mr Hynes [..........] the doorway.

Mr Hynes came [..........] slowly.

"Open another bottle [..........] stout, Jack," said Mr Henchy. "O, I forgot there's no corkscrew! Here, show me one here and I'll put it [..........] the fire."

The old man handed him another bottle and he placed it [..........] the hob.

"Sit [..........] , Joe," said Mr O'Connor, "we're just talking [..........] the Chief."

"Ay, ay!" said Mr Henchy.

Mr Hynes sat [..........] the side [..........] the table [..........] Mr Lyons [..........] said nothing.

"There's one [..........] them, anyhow," said Mr Henchy, "that didn't renege him. [..........] God, I'll say [..........] you, Joe! No, [..........] God, you stuck [..........] him [..........] a man!"

"O, Joe," said Mr O'Connor suddenly. "Give us that thing you wrote—do you remember? Have you got it [..........] you?"

"O, ay!" said Mr Henchy. "Give us that. Did you ever hear that, Crofton? Listen [..........] this now: splendid thing."

"Go [..........] ," said Mr O'Connor. "Fire away, Joe."

Mr Hynes did not seem [..........] remember [..........] once the piece [..........] which they were alluding [..........] , [..........] reflecting a while, he said:

"O, that thing is it.... Sure, that's old now."

"Out [..........] it, man!" said Mr O'Connor.

"'Sh, 'sh," said Mr Henchy. "Now, Joe!"

Mr Hynes hesitated a little longer. Then [..........] the silence he took off his hat, laid it [..........] the table and stood [..........] . He seemed [..........] be rehearsing the piece [..........] his mind. [..........] a rather long pause he announced:

                       THE DEATH  [..........] 
 PARNELL
                        6th October 1891

He cleared his throat once or twice and then began [..........] recite:

            He is dead.  Our Uncrowned King is dead.
              O, Erin, mourn  [..........] 
 grief and woe
             [..........] 
 he lies dead whom the fell gang
               [..........] 
 modern hypocrites laid low.

            He lies slain  [..........] 
 the coward hounds
              He raised  [..........] 
 glory  [..........] 
 the mire;
            And Erin's hopes and Erin's dreams
              Perish upon her monarch's pyre.

             [..........] 
 palace, cabin or  [..........] 
 cot
              The Irish heart where'er it be
            Is bowed  [..........] 
 woe— [..........] 
 he is gone
              Who would have wrought her destiny.

            He would have had his Erin famed,
              The green flag gloriously unfurled,
            Her statesmen, bards and warriors raised
               [..........] 
 the nations  [..........] 
 the World.

            He dreamed (alas, 'twas  [..........] 
 a dream!)
               [..........] 
 Liberty:  [..........] 
  [..........] 
 he strove
             [..........] 
 clutch that idol, treachery
              Sundered him  [..........] 
 the thing he loved.

            Shame  [..........] 
 the coward, caitiff hands
              That smote their Lord or  [..........] 
 a kiss
            Betrayed him  [..........] 
 the rabble-rout
               [..........] 
 fawning priests—no friends  [..........] 
 his.

            May everlasting shame consume
              The memory  [..........] 
 those who tried
             [..........] 
 befoul and smear the exalted name
               [..........] 
 one who spurned them  [..........] 
 his pride.

            He fell  [..........] 
 fall the mighty ones,
              Nobly undaunted  [..........] 
 the last,
            And death has now united him
               [..........] 
 Erin's heroes  [..........] 
 the  [..........] 
.

            No sound  [..........] 
 strife disturb his sleep!
              Calmly he rests: no human pain
            Or high ambition spurs him now
              The peaks  [..........] 
 glory  [..........] 
 attain.

            They had their way: they laid him low.
               [..........] 
 Erin, list, his spirit may
            Rise,  [..........] 
 the Phœnix  [..........] 
 the flames,
              When breaks the dawning  [..........] 
 the day,

            The day that brings us Freedom's reign.
              And  [..........] 
 that day may Erin well
            Pledge  [..........] 
 the cup she lifts  [..........] 
 Joy
              One grief—the memory  [..........] 
 Parnell.

Mr Hynes sat [..........] again [..........] the table. When he had finished his recitation there was a silence and then a burst [..........] clapping: even Mr Lyons clapped. The applause continued [..........] a little time. When it had ceased all the auditors drank [..........] their bottles [..........] silence.

Pok! The cork flew out [..........] Mr Hynes' bottle, [..........] Mr Hynes remained sitting flushed and bareheaded [..........] the table. He did not seem [..........] have heard the invitation.

"Good man, Joe!" said Mr O'Connor, taking out his cigarette papers and pouch the better [..........] hide his emotion.

"What do you think [..........] that, Crofton?" cried Mr Henchy. "Isn't that fine? What?"

Mr Crofton said that it was a very fine piece [..........] writing.

A MOTHER

MR HOLOHAN, assistant secretary [..........] the Eire Abu Society, had been walking [..........] and [..........] Dublin [..........] nearly a month, [..........] his hands and pockets full [..........] dirty pieces [..........] paper, arranging [..........] the series [..........] concerts. He had a game leg and [..........] this his friends called him Hoppy Holohan. He walked [..........] and [..........] constantly, stood [..........] the hour [..........] street corners arguing the point and made notes; [..........] [..........] the end it was Mrs Kearney who arranged everything.

Miss Devlin had become Mrs Kearney out [..........] spite. She had been educated [..........] a high-class convent, where she had learned French and music. [..........] she was naturally pale and unbending [..........] manner she made few friends [..........] school. When she came [..........] the age [..........] marriage she was sent out [..........] many houses where her playing and ivory manners were much admired. She sat [..........] the chilly circle [..........] her accomplishments, waiting [..........] some suitor [..........] brave it and offer her a brilliant life. [..........] the young men whom she met were ordinary and she gave them no encouragement, trying [..........] console her romantic desires [..........] eating a great deal [..........] Turkish Delight [..........] secret. However, when she drew [..........] the limit and her friends began [..........] loosen their tongues [..........] her, she silenced them [..........] marrying Mr Kearney, who was a bootmaker [..........] Ormond Quay.

He was much older [..........] she. His conversation, which was serious, took place [..........] intervals [..........] his great brown beard. [..........] the first year [..........] married life, Mrs Kearney perceived that such a man would wear better [..........] a romantic person, [..........] she never put her own romantic ideas away. He was sober, thrifty and pious; he went [..........] the altar every first Friday, sometimes [..........] her, oftener [..........] himself. [..........] she never weakened [..........] her religion and was a good wife [..........] him. [..........] some party [..........] a strange house when she lifted her eyebrow ever so slightly he stood [..........] [..........] take his leave and, when his cough troubled him, she put the eider- [..........] quilt [..........] his feet and made a strong rum punch. [..........] his part, he was a model father. [..........] paying a small sum every week into a society, he ensured [..........] both his daughters a dowry [..........] one hundred pounds each when they came [..........] the age [..........] twenty-four. He sent the elder daughter, Kathleen, [..........] a good convent, where she learned French and music, and afterward paid her fees [..........] the Academy. Every year [..........] the month [..........] July Mrs Kearney found occasion [..........] say [..........] some friend:

"My good man is packing us off [..........] Skerries [..........] a few weeks."

If it was not Skerries it was Howth or Greystones.

When the Irish Revival began [..........] be appreciable Mrs Kearney determined [..........] take advantage [..........] her daughter's name and brought an Irish teacher [..........] the house. Kathleen and her sister sent Irish picture postcards [..........] their friends and these friends sent back other Irish picture postcards. [..........] special Sundays, when Mr Kearney went [..........] his family [..........] the pro-cathedral, a little crowd [..........] people would assemble [..........] mass [..........] the corner [..........] Cathedral Street. They were all friends [..........] the Kearneys—musical friends or Nationalist friends; and, when they had played every little counter [..........] gossip, they shook hands [..........] one another all together, laughing [..........] the crossing [..........] so many hands, and said good-bye [..........] one another [..........] Irish. Soon the name [..........] Miss Kathleen Kearney began [..........] be heard often [..........] people's lips. People said that she was very clever [..........] music and a very nice girl and, moreover, that she was a believer [..........] the language movement. Mrs Kearney was well content [..........] this. Therefore she was not surprised when one day Mr Holohan came [..........] her and proposed that her daughter should be the accompanist [..........] a series [..........] four grand concerts which his Society was going [..........] give [..........] the Antient Concert Rooms. She brought him into the drawing-room, made him sit [..........] and brought out the decanter and the silver biscuit-barrel. She entered heart and soul into the details [..........] the enterprise, advised and dissuaded; and finally a contract was drawn [..........] [..........] which Kathleen was [..........] receive eight guineas [..........] her services [..........] accompanist [..........] the four grand concerts.

[..........] Mr Holohan was a novice [..........] such delicate matters [..........] the wording [..........] bills and the disposing [..........] items [..........] a programme, Mrs Kearney helped him. She had tact. She knew what artistes should go into capitals and what artistes should go into small type. She knew that the first tenor would not [..........] [..........] come [..........] [..........] Mr Meade's comic turn. [..........] keep the audience continually diverted she slipped the doubtful items [..........] [..........] the old favourites. Mr Holohan called [..........] see her every day [..........] have her advice [..........] some point. She was invariably friendly and advising—homely, [..........] fact. She pushed the decanter towards him, saying:

"Now, help yourself, Mr Holohan!"

And while he was helping himself she said:

"Don't be afraid! Don't be afraid [..........] it!"

Everything went [..........] smoothly. Mrs Kearney bought some lovely blush-pink charmeuse [..........] Brown Thomas's [..........] let into the front [..........] Kathleen's dress. It cost a pretty penny; [..........] there are occasions when a little expense is justifiable. She took a dozen [..........] two-shilling tickets [..........] the final concert and sent them [..........] those friends who could not be trusted [..........] come otherwise. She forgot nothing and, thanks [..........] her, everything that was [..........] be done was done.

The concerts were [..........] be [..........] Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. When Mrs Kearney arrived [..........] her daughter [..........] the Antient Concert Rooms [..........] Wednesday night she did not [..........] the look [..........] things. A few young men, wearing bright blue badges [..........] their coats, stood idle [..........] the vestibule; none [..........] them wore evening dress. She passed [..........] [..........] her daughter and a quick glance [..........] the open door [..........] the hall showed her the cause [..........] the stewards' idleness. [..........] first she wondered had she mistaken the hour. No, it was twenty minutes [..........] eight.

[..........] the dressing-room [..........] the stage she was introduced [..........] the secretary [..........] the Society, Mr Fitzpatrick. She smiled and shook his hand. He was a little man, [..........] a white vacant face. She noticed that he wore his soft brown hat carelessly [..........] the side [..........] his head and that his accent was flat. He held a programme [..........] his hand and, while he was talking [..........] her, he chewed one end [..........] it into a moist pulp. He seemed [..........] bear disappointments lightly. Mr Holohan came into the dressing-room every few minutes [..........] reports [..........] the box-office. The artistes talked [..........] themselves nervously, glanced [..........] time [..........] time [..........] the mirror and rolled and unrolled their music. When it was nearly half- [..........] eight, the few people [..........] the hall began [..........] express their desire [..........] be entertained. Mr Fitzpatrick came [..........] , smiled vacantly [..........] the room, and said:

"Well now, ladies and gentlemen. I suppose we'd better open the ball."

Mrs Kearney rewarded his very flat final syllable [..........] a quick stare [..........] contempt, and then said [..........] her daughter encouragingly:

"Are you ready, dear?"

When she had an opportunity, she called Mr Holohan aside and asked him [..........] tell her what it meant. Mr Holohan did not know what it meant. He said that the Committee had made a mistake [..........] arranging [..........] four concerts: four was too many.

"And the artistes!" said Mrs Kearney. " [..........] course they are doing their best, [..........] really they are not good."

Mr Holohan admitted that the artistes were no good [..........] the Committee, he said, had decided [..........] let the first three concerts go [..........] they pleased and reserve all the talent [..........] Saturday night. Mrs Kearney said nothing, [..........] , [..........] the mediocre items followed one another [..........] the platform and the few people [..........] the hall grew fewer and fewer, she began [..........] regret that she had put herself [..........] any expense [..........] such a concert. There was something she didn't [..........] [..........] the look [..........] things and Mr Fitzpatrick's vacant smile irritated her very much. However, she said nothing and waited [..........] see how it would end. The concert expired shortly [..........] ten, and everyone went home quickly.

The concert [..........] Thursday night was better attended, [..........] Mrs Kearney saw [..........] once that the house was filled [..........] paper. The audience behaved indecorously, [..........] if the concert were an informal dress rehearsal. Mr Fitzpatrick seemed [..........] enjoy himself; he was quite unconscious that Mrs Kearney was taking angry note [..........] his conduct. He stood [..........] the edge [..........] the screen, [..........] time [..........] time jutting out his head and exchanging a laugh [..........] two friends [..........] the corner [..........] the balcony. [..........] the course [..........] the evening, Mrs Kearney learned that the Friday concert was [..........] be abandoned and that the Committee was going [..........] move heaven and earth [..........] secure a bumper house [..........] Saturday night. When she heard this, she sought out Mr Holohan. She buttonholed him [..........] he was limping out quickly [..........] a glass [..........] lemonade [..........] a young lady and asked him was it true. Yes, it was true.

" [..........] , [..........] course, that doesn't alter the contract," she said. "The contract was [..........] four concerts."

Mr Holohan seemed [..........] be [..........] a hurry; he advised her [..........] speak [..........] Mr Fitzpatrick. Mrs Kearney was now beginning [..........] be alarmed. She called Mr Fitzpatrick away [..........] his screen and told him that her daughter had signed [..........] four concerts and that, [..........] course, according [..........] the terms [..........] the contract, she should receive the sum originally stipulated [..........] , whether the society gave the four concerts or not. Mr Fitzpatrick, who did not catch the point [..........] issue very quickly, seemed unable [..........] resolve the difficulty and said that he would bring the matter [..........] the Committee. Mrs Kearney's anger began [..........] flutter [..........] her cheek and she had all she could do [..........] keep [..........] asking:

"And who is the Cometty pray?"

[..........] she knew that it would not be ladylike [..........] do that: so she was silent.

Little boys were sent out into the principal streets [..........] Dublin early [..........] Friday morning [..........] bundles [..........] handbills. Special puffs appeared [..........] all the evening papers, reminding the music-loving public [..........] the treat which was [..........] store [..........] it [..........] the [..........] evening. Mrs Kearney was somewhat reassured, [..........] she thought well [..........] tell her husband part [..........] her suspicions. He listened carefully and said that perhaps it would be better if he went [..........] her [..........] Saturday night. She agreed. She respected her husband [..........] the same way [..........] she respected the General Post Office, [..........] something large, secure and fixed; and though she knew the small number [..........] his talents she appreciated his abstract value [..........] a male. She was glad that he had suggested coming [..........] her. She thought her plans [..........] .

The night [..........] the grand concert came. Mrs Kearney, [..........] her husband and daughter, arrived [..........] the Antient Concert Rooms three-quarters [..........] an hour [..........] the time [..........] which the concert was [..........] begin. [..........] ill luck it was a rainy evening. Mrs Kearney placed her daughter's clothes and music [..........] charge [..........] her husband and went all [..........] the building looking [..........] Mr Holohan or Mr Fitzpatrick. She could find neither. She asked the stewards was any member [..........] the Committee [..........] the hall and, [..........] a great deal [..........] trouble, a steward brought out a little woman named Miss Beirne [..........] whom Mrs Kearney explained that she wanted [..........] see one [..........] the secretaries. Miss Beirne expected them any minute and asked could she do anything. Mrs Kearney looked searchingly [..........] the oldish face which was screwed into an expression [..........] trustfulness and enthusiasm and answered:

"No, thank you!"

The little woman hoped they would have a good house. She looked out [..........] the rain [..........] the melancholy [..........] the wet street effaced all the trustfulness and enthusiasm [..........] her twisted features. Then she gave a little sigh and said:

"Ah, well! We did our best, the dear knows."

Mrs Kearney had [..........] go back [..........] the dressing-room.

The artistes were arriving. The bass and the second tenor had already come. The bass, Mr Duggan, was a slender young man [..........] a scattered black moustache. He was the son [..........] a hall porter [..........] an office [..........] the city and, [..........] a boy, he had sung prolonged bass notes [..........] the resounding hall. [..........] this humble state he had raised himself [..........] he had become a first-rate artiste. He had appeared [..........] grand opera. One night, when an operatic artiste had fallen ill, he had undertaken the part [..........] the king [..........] the opera [..........] Maritana [..........] the Queen's Theatre. He sang his music [..........] great feeling and volume and was warmly welcomed [..........] the gallery; [..........] , unfortunately, he marred the good impression [..........] wiping his nose [..........] his gloved hand once or twice out [..........] thoughtlessness. He was unassuming and spoke little. He said yous so softly that it passed unnoticed and he never drank anything stronger [..........] milk [..........] his voice's sake. Mr Bell, the second tenor, was a fair-haired little man who competed every year [..........] prizes [..........] the Feis Ceoil. [..........] his fourth trial he had been awarded a bronze medal. He was extremely nervous and extremely jealous [..........] other tenors and he covered his nervous jealousy [..........] an ebullient friendliness. It was his humour [..........] have people know what an ordeal a concert was [..........] him. Therefore when he saw Mr Duggan he went [..........] [..........] him and asked:

"Are you [..........] it too?"

"Yes," said Mr Duggan.

Mr Bell laughed [..........] his fellow-sufferer, held out his hand and said:

"Shake!"

Mrs Kearney passed [..........] these two young men and went [..........] the edge [..........] the screen [..........] view the house. The seats were being filled [..........] rapidly and a pleasant noise circulated [..........] the auditorium. She came back and spoke [..........] her husband privately. Their conversation was evidently [..........] Kathleen [..........] they both glanced [..........] her often [..........] she stood chatting [..........] one [..........] her Nationalist friends, Miss Healy, the contralto. An unknown solitary woman [..........] a pale face walked [..........] the room. The women followed [..........] keen eyes the faded blue dress which was stretched upon a meagre body. Someone said that she was Madam Glynn, the soprano.

"I wonder where did they dig her [..........] ," said Kathleen [..........] Miss Healy. "I'm sure I never heard [..........] her."

Miss Healy had [..........] smile. Mr Holohan limped into the dressing-room [..........] that moment and the two young ladies asked him who was the unknown woman. Mr Holohan said that she was Madam Glynn [..........] London. Madam Glynn took her stand [..........] a corner [..........] the room, holding a roll [..........] music stiffly [..........] her and [..........] time [..........] time changing the direction [..........] her startled gaze. The shadow took her faded dress into shelter [..........] fell revengefully into the little cup [..........] her collar-bone. The noise [..........] the hall became more audible. The first tenor and the baritone arrived together. They were both well dressed, stout and complacent and they brought a breath [..........] opulence [..........] the company.

Mrs Kearney brought her daughter [..........] [..........] them, and talked [..........] them amiably. She wanted [..........] be [..........] good terms [..........] them [..........] , while she strove [..........] be polite, her eyes followed Mr Holohan [..........] his limping and devious courses. [..........] soon [..........] she could she excused herself and went out [..........] him.

"Mr Holohan, I want [..........] speak [..........] you [..........] a moment," she said.

They went [..........] [..........] a discreet part [..........] the corridor. Mrs Kearney asked him when was her daughter going [..........] be paid. Mr Holohan said that Mr Fitzpatrick had charge [..........] that. Mrs Kearney said that she didn't know anything [..........] Mr Fitzpatrick. Her daughter had signed a contract [..........] eight guineas and she would have [..........] be paid. Mr Holohan said that it wasn't his business.

"Why isn't it your business?" asked Mrs Kearney. "Didn't you yourself bring her the contract? Anyway, if it's not your business it's my business and I mean [..........] see [..........] it."

"You'd better speak [..........] Mr Fitzpatrick," said Mr Holohan distantly.

"I don't know anything [..........] Mr Fitzpatrick," repeated Mrs Kearney. "I have my contract, and I intend [..........] see that it is carried out."

When she came back [..........] the dressing-room her cheeks were slightly suffused. The room was lively. Two men [..........] outdoor dress had taken possession [..........] the fireplace and were chatting familiarly [..........] Miss Healy and the baritone. They were the Freeman man and Mr O'Madden Burke. The Freeman man had come [..........] [..........] say that he could not wait [..........] the concert [..........] he had [..........] report the lecture which an American priest was giving [..........] the Mansion House. He said they were [..........] leave the report [..........] him [..........] the Freeman office and he would see that it went [..........] . He was a grey-haired man, [..........] a plausible voice and careful manners. He held an extinguished cigar [..........] his hand and the aroma [..........] cigar smoke floated [..........] him. He had not intended [..........] stay a moment because concerts and artistes bored him considerably [..........] he remained leaning [..........] the mantelpiece. Miss Healy stood [..........] front [..........] him, talking and laughing. He was old enough [..........] suspect one reason [..........] her politeness [..........] young enough [..........] spirit [..........] turn the moment [..........] account. The warmth, fragrance and colour [..........] her body appealed [..........] his senses. He was pleasantly conscious that the bosom which he saw rise and fall slowly [..........] him rose and fell [..........] that moment [..........] him, that the laughter and fragrance and wilful glances were his tribute. When he could stay no longer he took leave [..........] her regretfully.

"O'Madden Burke will write the notice," he explained [..........] Mr Holohan, "and I'll see it [..........] ."

"Thank you very much, Mr Hendrick," said Mr Holohan, "you'll see it [..........] , I know. Now, won't you have a little something [..........] you go?"

"I don't mind," said Mr Hendrick.

The two men went [..........] some tortuous passages and [..........] a dark staircase and came [..........] a secluded room where one [..........] the stewards was uncorking bottles [..........] a few gentlemen. One [..........] these gentlemen was Mr O'Madden Burke, who had found out the room [..........] instinct. He was a suave, elderly man who balanced his imposing body, when [..........] rest, upon a large silk umbrella. His magniloquent western name was the moral umbrella upon which he balanced the fine problem [..........] his finances. He was widely respected.

While Mr Holohan was entertaining the Freeman man Mrs Kearney was speaking so animatedly [..........] her husband that he had [..........] ask her [..........] lower her voice. The conversation [..........] the others [..........] the dressing-room had become strained. Mr Bell, the first item, stood ready [..........] his music [..........] the accompanist made no sign. Evidently something was wrong. Mr Kearney looked straight [..........] him, stroking his beard, while Mrs Kearney spoke into Kathleen's ear [..........] subdued emphasis. [..........] the hall came sounds [..........] encouragement, clapping and stamping [..........] feet. The first tenor and the baritone and Miss Healy stood together, waiting tranquilly, [..........] Mr Bell's nerves were greatly agitated because he was afraid the audience would think that he had come late.

Mr Holohan and Mr O'Madden Burke came into the room. [..........] a moment Mr Holohan perceived the hush. He went [..........] [..........] Mrs Kearney and spoke [..........] her earnestly. While they were speaking the noise [..........] the hall grew louder. Mr Holohan became very red and excited. He spoke volubly, [..........] Mrs Kearney said curtly [..........] intervals:

"She won't go [..........] . She must get her eight guineas."

Mr Holohan pointed desperately towards the hall where the audience was clapping and stamping. He appealed [..........] Mr Kearney and [..........] Kathleen. [..........] Mr Kearney continued [..........] stroke his beard and Kathleen looked [..........] , moving the point [..........] her new shoe: it was not her fault. Mrs Kearney repeated:

"She won't go [..........] without her money."

[..........] a swift struggle [..........] tongues Mr Holohan hobbled out [..........] haste. The room was silent. When the strain [..........] the silence had become somewhat painful Miss Healy said [..........] the baritone:

"Have you seen Mrs Pat Campbell this week?"

The baritone had not seen her [..........] he had been told that she was very fine. The conversation went no further. The first tenor bent his head and began [..........] count the links [..........] the gold chain which was extended [..........] his waist, smiling and humming random notes [..........] observe the effect [..........] the frontal sinus. [..........] time [..........] time everyone glanced [..........] Mrs Kearney.

The noise [..........] the auditorium had risen [..........] a clamour when Mr Fitzpatrick burst into the room, followed [..........] Mr Holohan, who was panting. The clapping and stamping [..........] the hall were punctuated [..........] whistling. Mr Fitzpatrick held a few banknotes [..........] his hand. He counted out four into Mrs Kearney's hand and said she would get the other half [..........] the interval. Mrs Kearney said:

"This is four shillings short."

[..........] Kathleen gathered [..........] her skirt and said: "Now, Mr Bell," [..........] the first item, who was shaking [..........] an aspen. The singer and the accompanist went out together. The noise [..........] hall died away. There was a pause [..........] a few seconds: and then the piano was heard.

The first part [..........] the concert was very successful [..........] [..........] Madam Glynn's item. The poor lady sang Killarney [..........] a bodiless gasping voice, [..........] all the old-fashioned mannerisms [..........] intonation and pronunciation which she believed lent elegance [..........] her singing. She looked [..........] if she had been resurrected [..........] an old stage-wardrobe and the cheaper parts [..........] the hall made fun [..........] her high wailing notes. The first tenor and the contralto, however, brought [..........] the house. Kathleen played a selection [..........] Irish airs which was generously applauded. The first part closed [..........] a stirring patriotic recitation delivered [..........] a young lady who arranged amateur theatricals. It was deservedly applauded; and, when it was ended, the men went out [..........] the interval, content.

All this time the dressing-room was a hive [..........] excitement. [..........] one corner were Mr Holohan, Mr Fitzpatrick, Miss Beirne, two [..........] the stewards, the baritone, the bass, and Mr O'Madden Burke. Mr O'Madden Burke said it was the most scandalous exhibition he had ever witnessed. Miss Kathleen Kearney's musical career was ended [..........] Dublin [..........] that, he said. The baritone was asked what did he think [..........] Mrs Kearney's conduct. He did not [..........] [..........] say anything. He had been paid his money and wished [..........] be [..........] peace [..........] men. However, he said that Mrs Kearney might have taken the artistes into consideration. The stewards and the secretaries debated hotly [..........] [..........] what should be done when the interval came.

"I agree [..........] Miss Beirne," said Mr O'Madden Burke. "Pay her nothing."

[..........] another corner [..........] the room were Mrs Kearney and her husband, Mr Bell, Miss Healy and the young lady who had [..........] recite the patriotic piece. Mrs Kearney said that the Committee had treated her scandalously. She had spared neither trouble nor expense and this was how she was repaid.

They thought they had only a girl [..........] deal [..........] and that, therefore, they could ride roughshod [..........] her. [..........] she would show them their mistake. They wouldn't have dared [..........] have treated her [..........] that if she had been a man. [..........] she would see that her daughter got her rights: she wouldn't be fooled. If they didn't pay her [..........] the last farthing she would make Dublin ring. [..........] course she was sorry [..........] the sake [..........] the artistes. [..........] what else could she do? She appealed [..........] the second tenor who said he thought she had not been well treated. Then she appealed [..........] Miss Healy. Miss Healy wanted [..........] join the other group [..........] she did not [..........] [..........] do so because she was a great friend [..........] Kathleen's and the Kearneys had often invited her [..........] their house.

[..........] soon [..........] the first part was ended Mr Fitzpatrick and Mr Holohan went [..........] [..........] Mrs Kearney and told her that the other four guineas would be paid [..........] the Committee meeting [..........] the [..........] Tuesday and that, [..........] case her daughter did not play [..........] the second part, the Committee would consider the contract broken and would pay nothing.

"I haven't seen any Committee," said Mrs Kearney angrily. "My daughter has her contract. She will get four pounds eight into her hand or a foot she won't put [..........] that platform."

"I'm surprised [..........] you, Mrs Kearney," said Mr Holohan. "I never thought you would treat us this way."

"And what way did you treat me?" asked Mrs Kearney.

Her face was inundated [..........] an angry colour and she looked [..........] if she would attack someone [..........] her hands.

"I'm asking [..........] my rights." she said.

"You might have some sense [..........] decency," said Mr Holohan.

"Might I, indeed?... And when I ask when my daughter is going [..........] be paid I can't get a civil answer."

She tossed her head and assumed a haughty voice:

"You must speak [..........] the secretary. It's not my business. I'm a great fellow fol-the-diddle-I-do."

"I thought you were a lady," said Mr Holohan, walking away [..........] her abruptly.

[..........] that Mrs Kearney's conduct was condemned [..........] all hands: everyone approved [..........] what the Committee had done. She stood [..........] the door, haggard [..........] rage, arguing [..........] her husband and daughter, gesticulating [..........] them. She waited [..........] it was time [..........] the second part [..........] begin [..........] the hope that the secretaries would approach her. [..........] Miss Healy had kindly consented [..........] play one or two accompaniments. Mrs Kearney had [..........] stand aside [..........] allow the baritone and his accompanist [..........] pass [..........] [..........] the platform. She stood still [..........] an instant [..........] an angry stone image and, when the first notes [..........] the song struck her ear, she caught [..........] her daughter's cloak and said [..........] her husband:

"Get a cab!"

He went out [..........] once. Mrs Kearney wrapped the cloak [..........] her daughter and followed him. [..........] she passed [..........] the doorway she stopped and glared into Mr Holohan's face.

"I'm not done [..........] you yet," she said.

" [..........] I'm done [..........] you," said Mr Holohan.

Kathleen followed her mother meekly. Mr Holohan began [..........] pace [..........] and [..........] the room, [..........] order [..........] cool himself [..........] he felt his skin [..........] fire.

"That's a nice lady!" he said. "O, she's a nice lady!"

"You did the proper thing, Holohan," said Mr O'Madden Burke, poised upon his umbrella [..........] approval.

GRACE

TWO gentlemen who were [..........] the lavatory [..........] the time tried [..........] lift him [..........] : [..........] he was quite helpless. He lay curled [..........] [..........] the foot [..........] the stairs [..........] which he had fallen. They succeeded [..........] turning him [..........] . His hat had rolled a few yards away and his clothes were smeared [..........] the filth and ooze [..........] the floor [..........] which he had lain, face downwards. His eyes were closed and he breathed [..........] a grunting noise. A thin stream [..........] blood trickled [..........] the corner [..........] his mouth.

These two gentlemen and one [..........] the curates carried him [..........] the stairs and laid him [..........] again [..........] the floor [..........] the bar. [..........] two minutes he was surrounded [..........] a ring [..........] men. The manager [..........] the bar asked everyone who he was and who was [..........] him. No one knew who he was [..........] one [..........] the curates said he had served the gentleman [..........] a small rum.

"Was he [..........] himself?" asked the manager.

"No, sir. There was two gentlemen [..........] him."

"And where are they?"

No one knew; a voice said:

"Give him air. He's fainted."

The ring [..........] onlookers distended and closed again elastically. A dark medal [..........] blood had formed itself [..........] the man's head [..........] the tessellated floor. The manager, alarmed [..........] the grey pallor [..........] the man's face, sent [..........] a policeman.

His collar was unfastened and his necktie undone. He opened his eyes [..........] an instant, sighed and closed them again. One [..........] gentlemen who had carried him upstairs held a dinged silk hat [..........] his hand. The manager asked repeatedly did no one know who the injured man was or where had his friends gone. The door [..........] the bar opened and an immense constable entered. A crowd which had followed him [..........] the laneway collected [..........] the door, struggling [..........] look [..........] [..........] the glass panels.

The manager [..........] once began [..........] narrate what he knew. The constable, a young man [..........] thick immobile features, listened. He moved his head slowly [..........] right and left and [..........] the manager [..........] the person [..........] the floor, [..........] if he feared [..........] be the victim [..........] some delusion. Then he drew off his glove, produced a small book [..........] his waist, licked the lead [..........] his pencil and made ready [..........] indite. He asked [..........] a suspicious provincial accent:

"Who is the man? What's his name and address?"

A young man [..........] a cycling-suit cleared his way [..........] the ring [..........] bystanders. He knelt [..........] promptly [..........] the injured man and called [..........] water. The constable knelt [..........] also [..........] help. The young man washed the blood [..........] the injured man's mouth and then called [..........] some brandy. The constable repeated the order [..........] an authoritative voice [..........] a curate came running [..........] the glass. The brandy was forced [..........] the man's throat. [..........] a few seconds he opened his eyes and looked [..........] him. He looked [..........] the circle [..........] faces and then, understanding, strove [..........] rise [..........] his feet.

"You're all right now?" asked the young man [..........] the cycling-suit.

"Sha, 's nothing," said the injured man, trying [..........] stand [..........] .

He was helped [..........] his feet. The manager said something [..........] a hospital and some [..........] the bystanders gave advice. The battered silk hat was placed [..........] the man's head. The constable asked:

"Where do you live?"

The man, without answering, began [..........] twirl the ends [..........] his moustache. He made light [..........] his accident. It was nothing, he said: only a little accident. He spoke very thickly.

"Where do you live?" repeated the constable.

The man said they were [..........] get a cab [..........] him. While the point was being debated a tall agile gentleman [..........] fair complexion, wearing a long yellow ulster, came [..........] the far end [..........] the bar. Seeing the spectacle, he called out:

"Hallo, Tom, old man! What's the trouble?"

"Sha, 's nothing," said the man.

The new-comer surveyed the deplorable figure [..........] him and then turned [..........] the constable, saying:

"It's all right, constable. I'll see him home."

The constable touched his helmet and answered:

"All right, Mr Power!"

"Come now, Tom," said Mr Power, taking his friend [..........] the arm. "No bones broken. What? Can you walk?"

The young man [..........] the cycling-suit took the man [..........] the other arm and the crowd divided.

"How did you get yourself into this mess?" asked Mr Power.

"The gentleman fell [..........] the stairs," said the young man.

"I' 'ery 'uch o'liged [..........] you, sir," said the injured man.

"Not [..........] all."

"'ant we have a little...?"

"Not now. Not now."

The three men left the bar and the crowd sifted [..........] the doors into the laneway. The manager brought the constable [..........] the stairs [..........] inspect the scene [..........] the accident. They agreed that the gentleman must have missed his footing. The customers returned [..........] the counter and a curate set [..........] removing the traces [..........] blood [..........] the floor.

When they came out into Grafton Street, Mr Power whistled [..........] an outsider. The injured man said again [..........] well [..........] he could:

"I' 'ery 'uch o'liged [..........] you, sir. I hope we'll 'eet again. 'y na'e is Kernan."

The shock and the incipient pain had partly sobered him.

"Don't mention it," said the young man.

They shook hands. Mr Kernan was hoisted [..........] [..........] the car and, while Mr Power was giving directions [..........] the carman, he expressed his gratitude [..........] the young man and regretted that they could not have a little drink together.

"Another time," said the young man.

The car drove off towards Westmoreland Street. [..........] it passed Ballast Office the clock showed half- [..........] nine. A keen east wind hit them, blowing [..........] the mouth [..........] the river. Mr Kernan was huddled together [..........] cold. His friend asked him [..........] tell how the accident had happened.

"I 'an't, 'an," he answered, "'y 'ongue is hurt."

"Show."

The other leaned [..........] the well [..........] the car and peered into Mr Kernan's mouth [..........] he could not see. He struck a match and, sheltering it [..........] the shell [..........] his hands, peered again into the mouth which Mr Kernan opened obediently. The swaying movement [..........] the car brought the match [..........] and [..........] the opened mouth. The lower teeth and gums were covered [..........] clotted blood and a minute piece [..........] the tongue seemed [..........] have been bitten off. The match was blown out.

"That's ugly," said Mr Power.

"Sha, 's nothing," said Mr Kernan, closing his mouth and pulling the collar [..........] his filthy coat [..........] his neck.

Mr Kernan was a commercial traveller [..........] the old school which believed [..........] the dignity [..........] its calling. He had never been seen [..........] the city without a silk hat [..........] some decency and a pair [..........] gaiters. [..........] grace [..........] these two articles [..........] clothing, he said, a man could always pass muster. He carried [..........] the tradition [..........] his Napoleon, the great Blackwhite, whose memory he evoked [..........] times [..........] legend and mimicry. Modern business methods had spared him only so far [..........] [..........] allow him a little office [..........] Crowe Street [..........] the window blind [..........] which was written the name [..........] his firm [..........] the address—London, E.C. [..........] the mantelpiece [..........] this little office a little leaden battalion [..........] canisters was drawn [..........] and [..........] the table [..........] the window stood four or five china bowls which were usually half full [..........] a black liquid. [..........] these bowls Mr Kernan tasted tea. He took a mouthful, drew it [..........] , saturated his palate [..........] it and then spat it forth into the grate. Then he paused [..........] judge.

Mr Power, a much younger man, was employed [..........] the Royal Irish Constabulary Office [..........] Dublin Castle. The arc [..........] his social rise intersected the arc [..........] his friend's decline, [..........] Mr Kernan's decline was mitigated [..........] the fact that certain [..........] those friends who had known him [..........] his highest point [..........] success still esteemed him [..........] a character. Mr Power was one [..........] these friends. His inexplicable debts were a byword [..........] his circle; he was a debonair young man.

The car halted [..........] a small house [..........] the Glasnevin road and Mr Kernan was helped into the house. His wife put him [..........] bed while Mr Power sat downstairs [..........] the kitchen asking the children where they went [..........] school and what book they were [..........] . The children—two girls and a boy, conscious [..........] their father's helplessness and [..........] their mother's absence, began some horseplay [..........] him. He was surprised [..........] their manners and [..........] their accents, and his brow grew thoughtful. [..........] a while Mrs Kernan entered the kitchen, exclaiming:

"Such a sight! O, he'll do [..........] himself one day and that's the holy alls [..........] it. He's been drinking [..........] Friday."

Mr Power was careful [..........] explain [..........] her that he was not responsible, that he had come [..........] the scene [..........] the merest accident. Mrs Kernan, remembering Mr Power's good offices [..........] domestic quarrels, [..........] well [..........] many small, [..........] opportune loans, said:

"O, you needn't tell me that, Mr Power. I know you're a friend [..........] his, not [..........] some [..........] the others he does be [..........] . They're all right so long [..........] he has money [..........] his pocket [..........] keep him out [..........] his wife and family. Nice friends! Who was he [..........] tonight, I'd [..........] [..........] know?"

Mr Power shook his head [..........] said nothing.

"I'm so sorry," she continued, "that I've nothing [..........] the house [..........] offer you. [..........] if you wait a minute I'll send [..........] [..........] Fogarty's [..........] the corner."

Mr Power stood [..........] .

"We were waiting [..........] him [..........] come home [..........] the money. He never seems [..........] think he has a home [..........] all."

"O, now, Mrs Kernan," said Mr Power, "we'll make him turn [..........] a new leaf. I'll talk [..........] Martin. He's the man. We'll come here one [..........] these nights and talk it [..........] ."

She saw him [..........] the door. The carman was stamping [..........] and [..........] the footpath, and swinging his arms [..........] warm himself.

"It's very kind [..........] you [..........] bring him home," she said.

"Not [..........] all," said Mr Power.

He got [..........] [..........] the car. [..........] it drove off he raised his hat [..........] her gaily.

"We'll make a new man [..........] him," he said. "Good-night, Mrs Kernan."

Mrs Kernan's puzzled eyes watched the car till it was out [..........] sight. Then she withdrew them, went into the house and emptied her husband's pockets.

She was an active, practical woman [..........] middle age. Not long [..........] she had celebrated her silver wedding and renewed her intimacy [..........] her husband [..........] waltzing [..........] him [..........] Mr Power's accompaniment. [..........] her days [..........] courtship Mr Kernan had seemed [..........] her a not ungallant figure: and she still hurried [..........] the chapel door whenever a wedding was reported and, seeing the bridal pair, recalled [..........] vivid pleasure how she had passed out [..........] the Star [..........] the Sea Church [..........] Sandymount, leaning [..........] the arm [..........] a jovial well-fed man, who was dressed smartly [..........] a frock-coat and lavender trousers and carried a silk hat gracefully balanced upon his other arm. [..........] three weeks she had found a wife's life irksome and, later [..........] , when she was beginning [..........] find it unbearable, she had become a mother. The part [..........] mother presented [..........] her no insuperable difficulties and [..........] twenty-five years she had kept house shrewdly [..........] her husband. Her two eldest sons were launched. One was [..........] a draper's shop [..........] Glasgow and the other was clerk [..........] a tea-merchant [..........] Belfast. They were good sons, wrote regularly and sometimes sent home money. The other children were still [..........] school.

Mr Kernan sent a letter [..........] his office next day and remained [..........] bed. She made beef-tea [..........] him and scolded him roundly. She accepted his frequent intemperance [..........] part [..........] the climate, healed him dutifully whenever he was sick and always tried [..........] make him eat a breakfast. There were worse husbands. He had never been violent [..........] the boys had grown [..........] and she knew that he would walk [..........] the end [..........] Thomas Street and back again [..........] book even a small order.

Two nights [..........] his friends came [..........] see him. She brought them [..........] [..........] his bedroom, the air [..........] which was impregnated [..........] a personal odour, and gave them chairs [..........] the fire. Mr Kernan's tongue, the occasional stinging pain [..........] which had made him somewhat irritable [..........] the day, became more polite. He sat propped [..........] [..........] the bed [..........] pillows and the little colour [..........] his puffy cheeks made them resemble warm cinders. He apologised [..........] his guests [..........] the disorder [..........] the room, [..........] [..........] the same time looked [..........] them a little proudly, [..........] a veteran's pride.

He was quite unconscious that he was the victim [..........] a plot which his friends, Mr Cunningham, Mr M'Coy and Mr Power had disclosed [..........] Mrs Kernan [..........] the parlour. The idea had been Mr Power's [..........] its development was entrusted [..........] Mr Cunningham. Mr Kernan came [..........] Protestant stock and, though he had been converted [..........] the Catholic faith [..........] the time [..........] his marriage, he had not been [..........] the pale [..........] the Church [..........] twenty years. He was fond, moreover, [..........] giving side-thrusts [..........] Catholicism.

Mr Cunningham was the very man [..........] such a case. He was an elder colleague [..........] Mr Power. His own domestic life was not very happy. People had great sympathy [..........] him [..........] it was known that he had married an unpresentable woman who was an incurable drunkard. He had set [..........] house [..........] her six times; and each time she had pawned the furniture [..........] him.

Everyone had respect [..........] poor Martin Cunningham. He was a thoroughly sensible man, influential and intelligent. His blade [..........] human knowledge, natural astuteness particularised [..........] long association [..........] cases [..........] the police courts, had been tempered [..........] brief immersions [..........] the waters [..........] general philosophy. He was well informed. His friends bowed [..........] his opinions and considered that his face was [..........] Shakespeare's.

When the plot had been disclosed [..........] her, Mrs Kernan had said:

"I leave it all [..........] your hands, Mr Cunningham."

[..........] a quarter [..........] a century [..........] married life, she had very few illusions left. Religion [..........] her was a habit and she suspected that a man [..........] her husband's age would not change greatly [..........] death. She was tempted [..........] see a curious appropriateness [..........] his accident and, [..........] that she did not wish [..........] seem bloody-minded, she would have told the gentlemen that Mr Kernan's tongue would not suffer [..........] being shortened. However, Mr Cunningham was a capable man; and religion was religion. The scheme might do good and, [..........] least, it could do no harm. Her beliefs were not extravagant. She believed steadily [..........] the Sacred Heart [..........] the most generally useful [..........] all Catholic devotions and approved [..........] the sacraments. Her faith was bounded [..........] her kitchen [..........] , if she was put [..........] it, she could believe also [..........] the banshee and [..........] the Holy Ghost.

The gentlemen began [..........] talk [..........] the accident. Mr Cunningham said that he had once known a similar case. A man [..........] seventy had bitten off a piece [..........] his tongue [..........] an epileptic fit and the tongue had filled [..........] again so that no one could see a trace [..........] the bite.

"Well, I'm not seventy," said the invalid.

"God forbid," said Mr Cunningham.

"It doesn't pain you now?" asked Mr M'Coy.

Mr M'Coy had been [..........] one time a tenor [..........] some reputation. His wife, who had been a soprano, still taught young children [..........] play the piano [..........] low terms. His line [..........] life had not been the shortest distance [..........] two points and [..........] short periods he had been driven [..........] live [..........] his wits. He had been a clerk [..........] the Midland Railway, a canvasser [..........] advertisements [..........] The Irish Times and [..........] The Freeman's Journal, a town traveller [..........] a coal firm [..........] commission, a private inquiry agent, a clerk [..........] the office [..........] the Sub-Sheriff and he had recently become secretary [..........] the City Coroner. His new office made him professionally interested [..........] Mr Kernan's case.

"Pain? Not much," answered Mr Kernan. " [..........] it's so sickening. I feel [..........] if I wanted [..........] retch off."

"That's the boose," said Mr Cunningham firmly.

"No," said Mr Kernan. "I think I caught a cold [..........] the car. There's something keeps coming into my throat, phlegm or——"

"Mucus." said Mr M'Coy.

"It keeps coming [..........] [..........] [..........] [..........] my throat; sickening thing."

"Yes, yes," said Mr M'Coy, "that's the thorax."

He looked [..........] Mr Cunningham and Mr Power [..........] the same time [..........] an air [..........] challenge. Mr Cunningham nodded his head rapidly and Mr Power said:

"Ah, well, all's well that ends well."

"I'm very much obliged [..........] you, old man," said the invalid.

Mr Power waved his hand.

"Those other two fellows I was [..........] ——"

"Who were you [..........] ?" asked Mr Cunningham.

"A chap. I don't know his name. Damn it now, what's his name? Little chap [..........] sandy hair...."

"And who else?"

"Harford."

"Hm," said Mr Cunningham.

When Mr Cunningham made that remark, people were silent. It was known that the speaker had secret sources [..........] information. [..........] this case the monosyllable had a moral intention. Mr Harford sometimes formed one [..........] a little detachment which left the city shortly [..........] noon [..........] Sunday [..........] the purpose [..........] arriving [..........] soon [..........] possible [..........] some public-house [..........] the outskirts [..........] the city where its members duly qualified themselves [..........] bona fide travellers. [..........] his fellow-travellers had never consented [..........] overlook his origin. He had begun life [..........] an obscure financier [..........] lending small sums [..........] money [..........] workmen [..........] usurious interest. Later [..........] he had become the partner [..........] a very fat short gentleman, Mr Goldberg, [..........] the Liffey Loan Bank. Though he had never embraced more [..........] the Jewish ethical code his fellow-Catholics, whenever they had smarted [..........] person or [..........] proxy [..........] his exactions, spoke [..........] him bitterly [..........] an Irish Jew and an illiterate and saw divine disapproval [..........] usury made manifest [..........] the person [..........] his idiot son. [..........] other times they remembered his good points.

"I wonder where did he go [..........] ," said Mr Kernan.

He wished the details [..........] the incident [..........] remain vague. He wished his friends [..........] think there had been some mistake, that Mr Harford and he had missed each other. His friends, who knew quite well Mr Harford's manners [..........] drinking, were silent. Mr Power said again:

"All's well that ends well."

Mr Kernan changed the subject [..........] once.

"That was a decent young chap, that medical fellow," he said. "Only [..........] him——"

"O, only [..........] him," said Mr Power, "it might have been a case [..........] seven days, without the option [..........] a fine."

"Yes, yes," said Mr Kernan, trying [..........] remember. "I remember now there was a policeman. Decent young fellow, he seemed. How did it happen [..........] all?"

"It happened that you were peloothered, Tom," said Mr Cunningham gravely.