Dubliners by James Joyce
he

Dublin The Sisters
An Encounter
Araby
Eveline
After the Race
Two Gallants
The Boarding House
A Little Cloud
Counterparts
Clay
A Painful Case
Ivy Day in the Committee Room
A Mother
Grace
The Dead

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Dubliners by James Joyce.
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There are 1660 occurrences of the word:   he

[The Sisters] [6] found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was
[The Sisters] [9] of a corpse. He had often said to me: "I am not long for this
[The Sisters] [20] he said, as if returning to some former remark of his:
[The Sisters] [22] "No, I wouldn't say he was exactly... but there was something
[The Sisters] [26] He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his
[The Sisters] [27] mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be
[The Sisters] [31] "I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of
[The Sisters] [34] He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory. My
[The Sisters] [43] "Is he dead?"
[The Sisters] [45] "Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house."
[The Sisters] [50] "The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him
[The Sisters] [51] a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him."
[The Sisters] [57] looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat
[The Sisters] [60] "I wouldn't like children of mine," he said, "to have too much to
[The Sisters] [74] pick of that leg mutton," he added to my aunt.
[The Sisters] [119] The reading of the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was
[The Sisters] [120] disturbed to find myself at check. Had he not been dead I would
[The Sisters] [127] do this without spilling half the snuff about the floor. Even as he
[The Sisters] [133] which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite
[The Sisters] [143] before, he had taught me a great deal. He had studied in the Irish
[The Sisters] [144] college in Rome and he had taught me to pronounce Latin
[The Sisters] [145] properly. He had told me stories about the catacombs and about
[The Sisters] [146] Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained to me the meaning of
[The Sisters] [148] worn by the priest. Sometimes he had amused himself by putting
[The Sisters] [157] surprised when he told me that the fathers of the Church had
[The Sisters] [161] answer or only a very foolish and halting one upon which he used
[The Sisters] [162] to smile and nod his head twice or thrice. Sometimes he used to
[The Sisters] [163] put me through the responses of the Mass which he had made me
[The Sisters] [164] learn by heart; and, as I pattered, he used to smile pensively and
[The Sisters] [166] nostril alternately. When he smiled he used to uncover his big
[The Sisters] [193] like pale thin flames. He had been coffined. Nannie gave the lead
[The Sisters] [199] priest was smiling as he lay there in his coffin.
[The Sisters] [202] that he was not smiling. There he lay, solemn and copious, vested
[The Sisters] [228] "Did he... peacefully?" she asked.
[The Sisters] [231] the breath went out of him. He had a beautiful death, God be
[The Sisters] [239] "He knew then?"
[The Sisters] [241] "He was quite resigned."
[The Sisters] [243] "He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.
[The Sisters] [245] "That's what the woman we had in to wash him said. She said he
[The Sisters] [246] just looked as if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and
[The Sisters] [260] poor as we are--we wouldn't see him want anything while he was
[The Sisters] [283] gone to his eternal reward he won't forget you and all your
[The Sisters] [286] "Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You
[The Sisters] [306] "But still and all he kept on saying that before the summer was
[The Sisters] [311] them with the rheumatic wheels, for the day cheap--he said, at
[The Sisters] [313] together of a Sunday evening. He had his mind set on that.... Poor
[The Sisters] [322] "He was too scrupulous always," she said. "The duties of the
[The Sisters] [326] "Yes," said my aunt. "He was a disappointed man. You could see
[The Sisters] [335] "It was that chalice he broke.... That was the beginning of it. Of
[The Sisters] [344] "That affected his mind," she said. "After that he began to mope by
[The Sisters] [346] night he was wanted for to go on a call and they couldn't find him
[The Sisters] [352] think but there he was, sitting up by himself in the dark in his
[An Encounter] [368] IT WAS Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West to us. He had a
[An Encounter] [371] his back garden and arranged Indian battles. He and his fat young
[An Encounter] [378] house. But he played too fiercely for us who were younger and
[An Encounter] [379] more timid. He looked like some kind of an Indian when he
[An Encounter] [385] Everyone was incredulous when it was reported that he had a
[An Encounter] [411] "What is this rubbish?" he said. "The Apache Chief! Is this what
[An Encounter] [435] an excuse for him and Leo Dillon was to tell his brother to say he
[An Encounter] [463] Mahony's grey suit approaching. He came up the hill, smiling, and
[An Encounter] [464] clambered up beside me on the bridge. While we were waiting he
[An Encounter] [466] explained some improvements which he had made in it. I asked
[An Encounter] [467] him why he had brought it and he told me he had brought it to
[An Encounter] [482] began to play the Indian as soon as we were out of public sight. He
[An Encounter] [485] at us, he proposed that we should charge them. I objected that the
[An Encounter] [492] by saying what a funk he was and guessing how many he would
[An Encounter] [544] before he regained any cheerfulness. The sun went in behind some
[An Encounter] [551] of those green stems on which girls tell fortunes. He came along
[An Encounter] [552] by the bank slowly. He walked with one hand upon his hip and in
[An Encounter] [553] the other hand he held a stick with which he tapped the turf lightly.
[An Encounter] [554] He was shabbily dressed in a suit of greenish-black and wore what
[An Encounter] [555] we used to call a jerry hat with a high crown. He seemed to be
[An Encounter] [556] fairly old for his moustache was ashen-grey. When he passed at
[An Encounter] [557] our feet he glanced up at us quickly and then continued his way.
[An Encounter] [558] We followed him with our eyes and saw that when he had gone on
[An Encounter] [559] for perhaps fifty paces he turned about and began to retrace his
[An Encounter] [560] steps. He walked towards us very slowly, always tapping the
[An Encounter] [561] ground with his stick, so slowly that I thought he was looking for
[An Encounter] [564] He stopped when he came level with us and bade us goodday. We
[An Encounter] [565] answered him and he sat down beside us on the slope slowly and
[An Encounter] [566] with great care. He began to talk of the weather, saying that it
[An Encounter] [568] changed gready since he was a boy--a long time ago. He said that
[An Encounter] [570] days and that he would give anything to be young again. While he
[An Encounter] [572] Then he began to talk of school and of books. He asked us whether
[An Encounter] [575] book he mentioned so that in the end he said:
[An Encounter] [577] "Ah, I can see you are a bookworm like myself. Now," he added,
[An Encounter] [578] pointing to Mahony who was regarding us with open eyes, "he is
[An Encounter] [579] different; he goes in for games."
[An Encounter] [581] He said he had all Sir Walter Scott's works and all Lord Lytton's
[An Encounter] [582] works at home and never tired of reading them. "Of course," he
[An Encounter] [587] saw that he had great gaps in his mouth between his yellow teeth.
[An Encounter] [588] Then he asked us which of us had the most sweethearts. Mahony
[An Encounter] [589] mentioned lightly that he had three totties. The man asked me how
[An Encounter] [590] many I had. I answered that I had none. He did not believe me and
[An Encounter] [591] said he was sure I must have one. I was silent.
[An Encounter] [596] The man smiled as before and said that when he was our age he
[An Encounter] [599] "Every boy," he said, "has a little sweetheart."
[An Encounter] [602] his age. In my heart I thought that what he said about boys and
[An Encounter] [604] and I wondered why he shivered once or twice as if he feared
[An Encounter] [605] something or felt a sudden chill. As he proceeded I noticed that his
[An Encounter] [606] accent was good. He began to speak to us about girls, saying what
[An Encounter] [609] There was nothing he liked, he said, so much as looking at a nice
[An Encounter] [610] young girl, at her nice white hands and her beautiful soft hair. He
[An Encounter] [611] gave me the impression that he was repeating something which he
[An Encounter] [614] orbit. At times he spoke as if he were simply alluding to some fact
[An Encounter] [615] that everybody knew, and at times he lowered his voice and spoke
[An Encounter] [616] mysteriously as if he were telling us something secret which he did
[An Encounter] [617] not wish others to overhear. He repeated his phrases over and over
[An Encounter] [622] After a long while his monologue paused. He stood up slowly,
[An Encounter] [623] saying that he had to leave us for a minute or so, a few minutes,
[An Encounter] [626] remained silent when he had gone. After a silence of a few
[An Encounter] [636] "In case he asks us for our names," I said "let you be Murphy and I'll
[An Encounter] [641] down beside us again. Hardly had he sat down when Mahony,
[An Encounter] [645] wall she had escaladed. Desisting from this, he began to wander
[An Encounter] [648] After an interval the man spoke to me. He said that my friend was
[An Encounter] [649] a very rough boy and asked did he get whipped often at school. I
[An Encounter] [651] boys to be whipped, as he called it; but I remained silent. He began
[An Encounter] [654] round its new centre. He said that when boys were that kind they
[An Encounter] [658] what he wanted was to get a nice warm whipping. I was surprised
[An Encounter] [663] The man continued his monologue. He seemed to have forgotten
[An Encounter] [664] his recent liberalism. He said that if ever he found a boy talking to
[An Encounter] [665] girls or having a girl for a sweetheart he would whip him and whip
[An Encounter] [667] boy had a girl for a sweetheart and told lies about it then he would
[An Encounter] [668] give him such a whipping as no boy ever got in this world. He said
[An Encounter] [669] that there was nothing in this world he would like so well as that.
[An Encounter] [670] He described to me how he would whip such a boy as if he were
[An Encounter] [671] unfolding some elaborate mystery. He would love that, he said,
[An Encounter] [672] better than anything in this world; and his voice, as he led me
[An Encounter] [680] my heart was beating quickly with fear that he would seize me by
[An Encounter] [688] Mahony saw me and hallooed in answer. How my heart beat as he
[An Encounter] [689] came running across the field to me! He ran as if to bring me aid.
[Araby] [711] the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable
[Araby] [712] priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the
[Araby] [735] teased her before he obeyed and I stood by the railings looking at
[Araby] [809] sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my
[Araby] [815] the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking
[Araby] [820] As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at
[Araby] [854] When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me
[Araby] [855] the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.
[Araby] [857] "The people are in bed and after their first sleep now," he said.
[Araby] [864] My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he
[Araby] [866] dull boy." He asked me where I was going and, when I had told
[Araby] [867] him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to
[Araby] [868] his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the
[Eveline] [953] and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was
[Eveline] [956] and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to
[Eveline] [972] Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he
[Eveline] [976] "He is in Melbourne now."
[Eveline] [1000] growing up he had never gone for her like he used to go for Harry
[Eveline] [1001] and Ernest, because she was a girl but latterly he had begun to
[Eveline] [1002] threaten her and say what he would do to her only for her dead
[Eveline] [1008] shillings--and Harry always sent up what he could but the trouble
[Eveline] [1009] was to get any money from her father. He said she used to
[Eveline] [1010] squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn't going to
[Eveline] [1012] much more, for he was usually fairly bad on Saturday night. In the
[Eveline] [1013] end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention
[Eveline] [1027] where he had a home waiting for her. How well she remembered
[Eveline] [1028] the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the
[Eveline] [1029] main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He
[Eveline] [1032] come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the Stores
[Eveline] [1033] every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian
[Eveline] [1035] theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little.
[Eveline] [1036] People knew that they were courting and, when he sang about the
[Eveline] [1037] lass that loves a sailor, she always felt pleasantly confused. He
[Eveline] [1040] him. He had tales of distant countries. He had started as a deck boy
[Eveline] [1042] Canada. He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the
[Eveline] [1043] names of the different services. He had sailed through the Straits
[Eveline] [1044] of Magellan and he told her stories of the terrible Patagonians. He
[Eveline] [1045] had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come over
[Eveline] [1050] "I know these sailor chaps," he said.
[Eveline] [1052] One day he had quarrelled with Frank and after that she had to
[Eveline] [1058] father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her.
[Eveline] [1059] Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long before, when she had
[Eveline] [1060] been laid up for a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made
[Eveline] [1088] escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps
[Eveline] [1091] in his arms. He would save her.
[Eveline] [1094] Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her,
[Eveline] [1104] Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her
[Eveline] [1112] All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing
[Eveline] [1113] her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at
[Eveline] [1123] He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was
[Eveline] [1124] shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face
[After the Race] [1151] was in good humour because he had unexpectedly received some
[After the Race] [1152] orders in advance (he was about to start a motor establishment in
[After the Race] [1153] Paris) and Riviere was in good humour because he was to be
[After the Race] [1157] he had had a very satisfactory luncheon; and besides he was an
[After the Race] [1161] He was about twenty-six years of age, with a soft, light brown
[After the Race] [1164] early. He had made his money as a butcher in Kingstown and by
[After the Race] [1165] opening shops in Dublin and in the suburbs he had made his
[After the Race] [1166] money many times over. He had also been fortunate enough to
[After the Race] [1167] secure some of the police contracts and in the end he had become
[After the Race] [1169] merchant prince. He had sent his son to England to be educated in
[After the Race] [1172] took to bad courses for a while. He had money and he was popular;
[After the Race] [1173] and he divided his time curiously between musical and motoring
[After the Race] [1174] circles. Then he had been sent for a term to Cambridge to see a
[After the Race] [1177] Cambridge that he had met Segouin. They were not much more
[After the Race] [1181] father agreed) was well worth knowing, even if he had not been
[After the Race] [1182] the charming companion he was. Villona was entertaining also--a
[After the Race] [1187] behind. Decidedly Villona was in excellent spirits; he kept up a
[After the Race] [1191] not altogether pleasant for him, as he had nearly always to make a
[After the Race] [1198] Jimmy's excitement. He had been seen by many of his friends that
[After the Race] [1204] nudges and significant looks. Then as to money--he really had a
[After the Race] [1209] bills within the limits of reasonable recklessness, and if he had
[After the Race] [1212] much more so now when he was about to stake the greater part of
[After the Race] [1223] car in which he sat. How smoothly it ran. In what style they had
[After the Race] [1246] well when he was dressed and, as he stood in the hall giving a last
[After the Race] [1262] Englishman's manner. A graceful image of his, he thought, and a
[After the Race] [1263] just one. He admired the dexterity with which their host directed
[After the Race] [1274] him: he aroused the torpid Routh at last. The room grew doubly
[After the Race] [1277] glass to Humanity and, when the toast had been drunk, he threw
[After the Race] [1299] Station. The ticket-collector saluted Jimmy; he was an old man:
[After the Race] [1325] clapping of hands when he sat down. It must have been a good
[After the Race] [1335] did not know exactly who was winning but he knew that he was
[After the Race] [1336] losing. But it was his own fault for he frequently mistook his cards
[After the Race] [1338] devils of fellows but he wished they would stop: it was getting late.
[After the Race] [1345] Segouin. What excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose,
[After the Race] [1346] of course. How much had he written away? The men rose to their
[After the Race] [1352] He knew that he would regret in the morning but at present he was
[After the Race] [1354] folly. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head
[After the Race] [1356] door opened and he saw the Hungarian standing in a shaft of grey
[Two Gallants] [1375] amused listening face. He was squat and ruddy. A yachting cap
[Two Gallants] [1377] he listened made constant waves of expression break forth over his
[Two Gallants] [1381] moment towards his companion's face. Once or twice he
[Two Gallants] [1382] rearranged the light waterproof which he had slung over one
[Two Gallants] [1389] When he was quite sure that the narrative had ended he laughed
[Two Gallants] [1390] noiselessly for fully half a minute. Then he said:
[Two Gallants] [1394] His voice seemed winnowed of vigour; and to enforce his words he
[Two Gallants] [1400] He became serious and silent when he had said this. His tongue
[Two Gallants] [1401] was tired for he had been talking all the afternoon in a
[Two Gallants] [1405] against him. He had a brave manner of coming up to a party of
[Two Gallants] [1407] company until he was included in a round. He was a sporting
[Two Gallants] [1409] He was insensitive to all kinds of discourtesy. No one knew how
[Two Gallants] [1410] he achieved the stern task of living, but his name was vaguely
[Two Gallants] [1413] "And where did you pick her up, Corley?" he asked.
[Two Gallants] [1417] "One night, man," he said, "I was going along Dame Street and I
[Two Gallants] [1438] "Of all the good ones ever I heard," he said, "that emphatically
[Two Gallants] [1444] of police and he had inherited his father's frame and gut. He
[Two Gallants] [1449] another. He always stared straight before him as if he were on
[Two Gallants] [1450] parade and, when he wished to gaze after someone in the street, it
[Two Gallants] [1452] he was about town. Whenever any job was vacant a friend was
[Two Gallants] [1453] always ready to give him the hard word. He was often to be seen
[Two Gallants] [1454] walking with policemen in plain clothes, talking earnestly. He
[Two Gallants] [1456] judgments. He spoke without listening to the speech of his
[Two Gallants] [1457] companions. His conversation was mainly about himself what he
[Two Gallants] [1459] and what he had said to settle the matter. When he reported these
[Two Gallants] [1460] dialogues he aspirated the first letter of his name after the manner
[Two Gallants] [1466] large faint moon circled with a double halo. He watched earnestly
[Two Gallants] [1467] the passing of the grey web of twilight across its face. At length he
[Two Gallants] [1485] himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the
[Two Gallants] [1488] "There's nothing to touch a good slavey," he affirmed. "Take my
[Two Gallants] [1497] way. I used to spend money on them right enough," he added, in a
[Two Gallants] [1498] convincing tone, as if he was conscious of being disbelieved.
[Two Gallants] [1500] But Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely.
[Two Gallants] [1502] "I know that game," he said, "and it's a mug's game."
[Two Gallants] [1510] He moistened his upper lip by running his tongue along it. The
[Two Gallants] [1511] recollection brightened his eyes. He too gazed at the pale disc of
[Two Gallants] [1514] She was... a bit of all right," he said regretfully.
[Two Gallants] [1516] He was silent again. Then he added:
[Two Gallants] [1525] This time Lenehan was inclined to disbelieve. He shook his head
[Two Gallants] [1528] "You know you can't kid me, Corley," he said.
[Two Gallants] [1534] "Base betrayer!" he said.
[Two Gallants] [1539] "Twenty after," he said.
[Two Gallants] [1546] 'Ecod! Corley, you know how to take them," he said.
[Two Gallants] [1558] "I'll pull it off," he said. "Leave it to me, can't you?"
[Two Gallants] [1560] Lenehan said no more. He did not wish to ruffle his friend's
[Two Gallants] [1565] "She's a fine decent tart," he said, with appreciation; "that's what
[Two Gallants] [1570] roadway, playing to a little ring of listeners. He plucked at the
[Two Gallants] [1590] "Let's have a look at her, Corley," he said.
[Two Gallants] [1595] "Are you trying to get inside me?" he asked.
[Two Gallants] [1618] Corley did not answer. He sauntered across the road swaying his
[Two Gallants] [1620] of his boots had something of the conqueror in them. He
[Two Gallants] [1623] executed half turns on her heels. Once or twice when he spoke to
[Two Gallants] [1626] Lenehan observed them for a few minutes. Then he walked rapidly
[Two Gallants] [1628] obliquely. As he approached Hume Street corner he found the air
[Two Gallants] [1641] open in a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth. As he
[Two Gallants] [1643] Corley returned a salute to the air. This he did by raising his hand
[Two Gallants] [1646] Lenehan walked as far as the Shelbourne Hotel where he halted
[Two Gallants] [1647] and waited. After waiting for a little time he saw them coming
[Two Gallants] [1648] towards him and, when they turned to the right, he followed them,
[Two Gallants] [1650] Square. As he walked on slowly, timing his pace to theirs, he
[Two Gallants] [1652] young woman's face like a big ball revolving on a pivot. He kept
[Two Gallants] [1653] the pair in view until he had seen them climbing the stairs of the
[Two Gallants] [1654] Donnybrook tram; then he turned about and went back the way he
[Two Gallants] [1657] Now that he was alone his face looked older. His gaiety seemed to
[Two Gallants] [1658] forsake him and, as he came by the railings of the Duke's Lawn, he
[Two Gallants] [1664] He walked listlessly round Stephen's Green and then down Grafton
[Two Gallants] [1666] through which he passed they did so morosely. He found trivial all
[Two Gallants] [1668] invited him to be bold. He knew that he would have to speak a
[Two Gallants] [1670] too dry for such a task. The problem of how he could pass the
[Two Gallants] [1671] hours till he met Corley again troubled him a little. He could think
[Two Gallants] [1672] of no way of passing them but to keep on walking. He turned to the
[Two Gallants] [1673] left when he came to the corner of Rutland Square and felt more at
[Two Gallants] [1675] mood. He paused at last before the window of a poor-looking shop
[Two Gallants] [1680] plum-pudding. He eyed this food earnestly for some time and then,
[Two Gallants] [1684] He was hungry for, except some biscuits which he had asked two
[Two Gallants] [1685] grudging curates to bring him, he had eaten nothing since
[Two Gallants] [1686] breakfast-time. He sat down at an uncovered wooden table
[Two Gallants] [1690] "How much is a plate of peas?" he asked.
[Two Gallants] [1694] "Bring me a plate of peas," he said, "and a bottle of ginger beer."
[Two Gallants] [1696] He spoke roughly in order to belie his air of gentility for his entry
[Two Gallants] [1698] appear natural he pushed his cap back on his head and planted his
[Two Gallants] [1702] seasoned with pepper and vinegar, a fork and his ginger beer. He
[Two Gallants] [1703] ate his food greedily and found it so good that he made a note of
[Two Gallants] [1704] the shop mentally. When he had eaten all the peas he sipped his
[Two Gallants] [1706] In his imagination he beheld the pair of lovers walking along some
[Two Gallants] [1707] dark road; he heard Corley's voice in deep energetic gallantries and
[Two Gallants] [1709] him feel keenly his own poverty of purse and spirit. He was tired
[Two Gallants] [1711] intrigues. He would be thirty-one in November. Would he never
[Two Gallants] [1712] get a good job? Would he never have a home of his own? He
[Two Gallants] [1714] a good dinner to sit down to. He had walked the streets long
[Two Gallants] [1715] enough with friends and with girls. He knew what those friends
[Two Gallants] [1716] were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had embittered his
[Two Gallants] [1717] heart against the world. But all hope had not left him. He felt
[Two Gallants] [1718] better after having eaten than he had felt before, less weary of his
[Two Gallants] [1719] life, less vanquished in spirit. He might yet be able to settle down
[Two Gallants] [1720] in some snug corner and live happily if he could only come across
[Two Gallants] [1723] He paid twopence halfpenny to the slatternly girl and went out of
[Two Gallants] [1724] the shop to begin his wandering again. He went into Capel Street
[Two Gallants] [1725] and walked along towards the City Hall. Then he turned into Dame
[Two Gallants] [1726] Street. At the corner of George's Street he met two friends of his
[Two Gallants] [1727] and stopped to converse with them. He was glad that he could rest
[Two Gallants] [1728] from all his walking. His friends asked him had he seen Corley and
[Two Gallants] [1729] what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day with
[Two Gallants] [1732] One said that he had seen Mac an hour before in Westmoreland
[Two Gallants] [1733] Street. At this Lenehan said that he had been with Mac the night
[Two Gallants] [1736] a billiard match. Lenehan did not know: he said that Holohan had
[Two Gallants] [1739] He left his friends at a quarter to ten and went up George's Street.
[Two Gallants] [1740] He turned to the left at the City Markets and walked on into
[Two Gallants] [1742] on his way up the street he heard many groups and couples bidding
[Two Gallants] [1743] one another good-night. He went as far as the clock of the College
[Two Gallants] [1744] of Surgeons: it was on the stroke of ten. He set off briskly along
[Two Gallants] [1746] return too soon. When he reached the corner of Merrion Street he
[Two Gallants] [1748] cigarettes which he had reserved and lit it. He leaned against the
[Two Gallants] [1749] lamp-post and kept his gaze fixed on the part from which he
[Two Gallants] [1752] His mind became active again. He wondered had Corley managed
[Two Gallants] [1753] it successfully. He wondered if he had asked her yet or if he would
[Two Gallants] [1754] leave it to the last. He suffered all the pangs and thrills of his
[Two Gallants] [1756] Corley's slowly revolving head calmed him somewhat: he was sure
[Two Gallants] [1760] them. Yet it was surely half-an-hour since he had seen the clock of
[Two Gallants] [1761] the College of Surgeons. Would Corley do a thing like that? He lit
[Two Gallants] [1762] his last cigarette and began to smoke it nervously. He strained his
[Two Gallants] [1765] broke and he flung it into the road with a curse.
[Two Gallants] [1767] Suddenly he saw them coming towards him. He started with
[Two Gallants] [1772] pricked him like the point of a sharp instrument. He knew Corley
[Two Gallants] [1773] would fail; he knew it was no go.
[Two Gallants] [1775] They turned down Baggot Street and he followed them at once,
[Two Gallants] [1776] taking the other footpath. When they stopped he stopped too. They
[Two Gallants] [1788] fell. He took them as a warning and, glancing back towards the
[Two Gallants] [1789] house which the young woman had entered to see that he was not
[Two Gallants] [1790] observed, he ran eagerly across the road. Anxiety and his swift run
[Two Gallants] [1791] made him pant. He called out:
[Two Gallants] [1799] "Hallo, Corley!" he cried again.
[Two Gallants] [1801] He came level with his friend and looked keenly in his face. He
[Two Gallants] [1804] "Well?" he said. "Did it come off?"
[Two Gallants] [1809] breathing uneasily. He was baffled and a note of menace pierced
[Two Gallants] [1812] "Can't you tell us?" he said. "Did you try her?"
[Two Gallants] [1815] with a grave gesture he extended a hand towards the light and,
[The Boarding House] [1825] Mooney began to go to the devil. He drank, plundered the till, ran
[The Boarding House] [1826] headlong into debt. It was no use making him take the pledge: he
[The Boarding House] [1828] in the presence of customers and by buying bad meat he ruined his
[The Boarding House] [1829] business. One night he went for his wife with the cleaver and she
[The Boarding House] [1834] neither money nor food nor house-room; and so he was obliged to
[The Boarding House] [1835] enlist himself as a sheriff's man. He was a shabby stooped little
[The Boarding House] [1838] day long he sat in the bailiff's room, waiting to be put on a job.
[The Boarding House] [1856] reputation of being a hard case. He was fond of using soldiers'
[The Boarding House] [1857] obscenities: usually he came home in the small hours. When he
[The Boarding House] [1858] met his friends he had always a good one to tell them and he was
[The Boarding House] [1860] a likely artiste. He was also handy with the mits and sang comic
[The Boarding House] [1934] assuming that he was a man of honour and he had simply abused
[The Boarding House] [1935] her hospitality. He was thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, so
[The Boarding House] [1937] be his excuse since he was a man who had seen something of the
[The Boarding House] [1938] world. He had simply taken advantage of Polly's youth and
[The Boarding House] [1940] would he make?
[The Boarding House] [1943] the man: he can go his ways as if nothing had happened, having
[The Boarding House] [1952] would win. He was a serious young man, not rakish or loud-voiced
[The Boarding House] [1955] think he would face publicity. All the lodgers in the house knew
[The Boarding House] [1957] Besides, he had been employed for thirteen years in a great
[The Boarding House] [1959] him, perhaps, the loss of his job. Whereas if he agreed all might be
[The Boarding House] [1960] well. She knew he had a good screw for one thing and she
[The Boarding House] [1961] suspected he had a bit of stuff put by.
[The Boarding House] [1968] Mr. Doran was very anxious indeed this Sunday morning. He had
[The Boarding House] [1970] he had been obliged to desist. Three days' reddish beard fringed his
[The Boarding House] [1972] so that he had to take them off and polish them with his
[The Boarding House] [1976] magnified his sin that he was almost thankful at being afforded a
[The Boarding House] [1977] loophole of reparation. The harm was done. What could he do now
[The Boarding House] [1978] but marry her or run away? He could not brazen it out. The affair
[The Boarding House] [1981] else's business. He felt his heart leap warmly in his throat as he
[The Boarding House] [1986] diligence thrown away! As a young man he had sown his wild oats,
[The Boarding House] [1987] of course; he had boasted of his free-thinking and denied the
[The Boarding House] [1989] all passed and done with... nearly. He still bought a copy of
[The Boarding House] [1990] Reynolds's Newspaper every week but he attended to his religious
[The Boarding House] [1991] duties and for nine-tenths of the year lived a regular life. He had
[The Boarding House] [1995] certain fame. He had a notion that he was being had. He could
[The Boarding House] [1998] But what would grammar matter if he really loved her? He could
[The Boarding House] [2000] she had done. Of course he had done it too. His instinct urged him
[The Boarding House] [2004] While he was sitting helplessly on the side of the bed in shirt and
[The Boarding House] [2014] He comforted her feebly, telling her not to cry, that it would be all
[The Boarding House] [2015] right, never fear. He felt against his shirt the agitation of her
[The Boarding House] [2018] It was not altogether his fault that it had happened. He
[The Boarding House] [2021] him. Then late one night as he was undressing for she had tapped
[The Boarding House] [2029] On nights when he came in very late it was she who warmed up his
[The Boarding House] [2030] dinner. He scarcely knew what he was eating feeling her beside
[The Boarding House] [2038] to kiss. He remembered well her eyes, the touch of her hand and
[The Boarding House] [2041] But delirium passes. He echoed her phrase, applying it to himself:
[The Boarding House] [2046] While he was sitting with her on the side of the bed Mary came to
[The Boarding House] [2048] He stood up to put on his coat and waistcoat, more helpless than
[The Boarding House] [2049] ever. When he was dressed he went over to her to comfort her. It
[The Boarding House] [2050] would be all right, never fear. He left her crying on the bed and
[The Boarding House] [2054] moisture that he had to take them off and polish them. He longed
[The Boarding House] [2056] he would never hear again of his trouble, and yet a force pushed
[The Boarding House] [2059] of stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming up from the
[The Boarding House] [2062] a pair of thick short arms. When he reached the foot of the
[The Boarding House] [2063] staircase he glanced up and saw Jack regarding him from the door
[The Boarding House] [2066] Suddenly he remembered the night when one of the musichall
[The Boarding House] [2073] down his throat, so he would.
[A Little Cloud] [2105] EIGHT years before he had seen his friend off at the North Wall
[A Little Cloud] [2110] place and he had deserved to win. It was something to have a
[A Little Cloud] [2115] London where Gallaher lived. He was called Little Chandler
[A Little Cloud] [2116] because, though he was but slightly under the average stature, he
[A Little Cloud] [2119] were refined. He took the greatest care of his fair silken hair and
[A Little Cloud] [2121] half-moons of his nails were perfect and when he smiled you
[A Little Cloud] [2124] As he sat at his desk in the King's Inns he thought what changes
[A Little Cloud] [2125] those eight years had brought. The friend whom he had known
[A Little Cloud] [2127] on the London Press. He turned often from his tiresome writing to
[A Little Cloud] [2133] everyone who passed through the gardens. He watched the scene
[A Little Cloud] [2134] and thought of life; and (as always happened when he thought of
[A Little Cloud] [2135] life) he became sad. A gentle melancholy took possession of him.
[A Little Cloud] [2136] He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being
[A Little Cloud] [2139] He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He
[A Little Cloud] [2140] had bought them in his bachelor days and many an evening, as he
[A Little Cloud] [2141] sat in the little room off the hall, he had been tempted to take one
[A Little Cloud] [2144] on their shelves. At times he repeated lines to himself and this
[A Little Cloud] [2147] When his hour had struck he stood up and took leave of his desk
[A Little Cloud] [2148] and of his fellow-clerks punctiliously. He emerged from under the
[A Little Cloud] [2154] Little Chandler gave them no thought. He picked his way deftly
[A Little Cloud] [2160] He had never been in Corless's but he knew the value of the name.
[A Little Cloud] [2161] He knew that people went there after the theatre to eat oysters and
[A Little Cloud] [2162] drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke
[A Little Cloud] [2163] French and German. Walking swiftly by at night he had seen cabs
[A Little Cloud] [2167] dresses, when they touched earth, like alarmed Atalantas. He had
[A Little Cloud] [2169] walk swiftly in the street even by day and whenever he found
[A Little Cloud] [2170] himself in the city late at night he hurried on his way
[A Little Cloud] [2171] apprehensively and excitedly. Sometimes, however, he courted the
[A Little Cloud] [2172] causes of his fear. He chose the darkest and narrowest streets and,
[A Little Cloud] [2173] as he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread about his
[A Little Cloud] [2178] He turned to the right towards Capel Street. Ignatius Gallaher on
[A Little Cloud] [2180] before? Still, now that he reviewed the past, Little Chandler could
[A Little Cloud] [2182] to say that Ignatius Gallaher was wild Of course, he did mix with a
[A Little Cloud] [2184] money on all sides. In the end he had got mixed up in some shady
[A Little Cloud] [2188] yourself. Even when he was out at elbows and at his wits' end for
[A Little Cloud] [2189] money he kept up a bold face. Little Chandler remembered (and
[A Little Cloud] [2191] of Ignatius Gallaher's sayings when he was in a tight corner:
[A Little Cloud] [2193] "Half time now, boys," he used to say light-heartedly. "Where's my
[A Little Cloud] [2199] Little Chandler quickened his pace. For the first time in his life he
[A Little Cloud] [2200] felt himself superior to the people he passed. For the first time his
[A Little Cloud] [2203] away. You could do nothing in Dublin. As he crossed Grattan
[A Little Cloud] [2204] Bridge he looked down the river towards the lower quays and
[A Little Cloud] [2209] themselves and begone. He wondered whether he could write a
[A Little Cloud] [2211] into some London paper for him. Could he write something
[A Little Cloud] [2212] original? He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the
[A Little Cloud] [2214] him like an infant hope. He stepped onward bravely.
[A Little Cloud] [2218] mind. He was not so old--thirty-two. His temperament might be
[A Little Cloud] [2220] different moods and impressions that he wished to express in
[A Little Cloud] [2221] verse. He felt them within him. He tried weigh his soul to see if it
[A Little Cloud] [2223] temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by
[A Little Cloud] [2224] recurrences of faith and resignation and simple joy. If he could
[A Little Cloud] [2226] He would never be popular: he saw that. He could not sway the
[A Little Cloud] [2227] crowd but he might appeal to a little circle of kindred minds. The
[A Little Cloud] [2230] that, he would put in allusions. He began to invent sentences and
[A Little Cloud] [2236] better still: T. Malone Chandler. He would speak to Gallaher about
[A Little Cloud] [2239] He pursued his revery so ardently that he passed his street and had
[A Little Cloud] [2240] to turn back. As he came near Corless's his former agitation began
[A Little Cloud] [2241] to overmaster him and he halted before the door in indecision.
[A Little Cloud] [2242] Finally he opened the door and entered.
[A Little Cloud] [2245] moments. He looked about him, but his sight was confused by the
[A Little Cloud] [2247] to be full of people and he felt that the people were observing him
[A Little Cloud] [2248] curiously. He glanced quickly to right and left (frowning slightly to
[A Little Cloud] [2250] he saw that nobody had turned to look at him: and there, sure
[A Little Cloud] [2266] and shone out plainly above the vivid orange tie he wore. Between
[A Little Cloud] [2268] colourless. He bent his head and felt with two sympathetic fingers
[A Little Cloud] [2294] seems to be in a bad way. What's he doing?"
[A Little Cloud] [2298] "But Hogan has a good sit, hasn't he?"
[A Little Cloud] [2302] "I met him one night in London and he seemed to be very flush....
[A Little Cloud] [2309] "Tommy," he said, "I see you haven't changed an atom. You're the
[A Little Cloud] [2319] "The Isle of Man!" he said. "Go to London or Paris: Paris, for
[A Little Cloud] [2328] He sipped a little of his drink while Ignatius Gallaher finished his
[A Little Cloud] [2337] succeeded in catching the barman's eye. He ordered the same
[A Little Cloud] [2346] glasses: then he touched his friend's glass lightly and reciprocated
[A Little Cloud] [2347] the former toast. He was beginning to feel somewhat disillusioned.
[A Little Cloud] [2349] him. There was something vulgar in his friend which he had not
[A Little Cloud] [2353] after all, Gallaher had lived, he had seen the world. Little Chandler
[A Little Cloud] [2364] "Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so... immoral as they
[A Little Cloud] [2369] "Every place is immoral," he said. "Of course you do find spicy
[A Little Cloud] [2378] "Ah," he said, "you may say what you like. There's no woman like
[A Little Cloud] [2386] London when he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say,
[A Little Cloud] [2402] some time from the clouds of smoke in which he had taken refuge,
[A Little Cloud] [2407] calm historian's tone, he proceeded to sketch for his friend some
[A Little Cloud] [2408] pictures of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised
[A Little Cloud] [2410] to Berlin. Some things he could not vouch for (his friends had told
[A Little Cloud] [2411] him), but of others he had had personal experience. He spared
[A Little Cloud] [2412] neither rank nor caste. He revealed many of the secrets of religious
[A Little Cloud] [2415] a story about an English duchess--a story which he knew to be
[A Little Cloud] [2432] "Yes," he said. "I was married last May twelve months."
[A Little Cloud] [2438] He extended his hand, which Little Chandler took.
[A Little Cloud] [2440] "Well, Tommy," he said, "I wish you and yours every joy in life,
[A Little Cloud] [2451] "We have one child," he said.
[A Little Cloud] [2459] "Bravo," he said, "I wouldn't doubt you, Tommy."
[A Little Cloud] [2464] "I hope you'll spend an evening with us," he said, "before you go
[A Little Cloud] [2474] fellow, clever young chap he is too, and we arranged to go to a
[A Little Cloud] [2494] "Is it to be the last?" he said. "Because you know, I have an a.p."
[A Little Cloud] [2504] made him blush at any time: and now he felt warm and excited.
[A Little Cloud] [2506] cigar had confused his mind, for he was a delicate and abstinent
[A Little Cloud] [2511] his sensitive nature. He felt acutely the contrast between his own
[A Little Cloud] [2513] inferior in birth and education. He was sure that he could do
[A Little Cloud] [2515] something higher than mere tawdry journalism if he only got the
[A Little Cloud] [2517] He wished to vindicate himself in some way, to assert his
[A Little Cloud] [2518] manhood. He saw behind Gallaher's refusal of his invitation.
[A Little Cloud] [2519] Gallaher was only patronising him by his friendliness just as he
[A Little Cloud] [2525] "Who knows?" he said, as they lifted their glasses. "When you
[A Little Cloud] [2530] over the rim of his glass. When he had drunk he smacked his lips
[A Little Cloud] [2542] "You think so?" he said.
[A Little Cloud] [2547] He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had
[A Little Cloud] [2549] cheek, he did not flinch from his friend's gaze. Ignatius Gallaher
[A Little Cloud] [2566] He tossed his glass to his mouth, finished his drink and laughed
[A Little Cloud] [2567] loudly. Then he looked thoughtfully before him and said in a
[A Little Cloud] [2573] He imitated with his mouth the act of tasting and made a wry face.
[A Little Cloud] [2575] "Must get a bit stale, I should think," he said.
[A Little Cloud] [2582] moreover, he had forgotten to bring Annie home the parcel of
[A Little Cloud] [2596] blouse which he had brought her home as a present one Saturday.
[A Little Cloud] [2598] nervousness it had cost him! How he had suffered that day, waiting
[A Little Cloud] [2603] striving to hide his blushes as he left the shop by examining the
[A Little Cloud] [2604] parcel to see if it was securely tied. When he brought the blouse
[A Little Cloud] [2610] kissed him and said he was very good to think of her.
[A Little Cloud] [2614] He looked coldly into the eyes of the photograph and they
[A Little Cloud] [2616] pretty. But he found something mean in it. Why was it so
[A Little Cloud] [2619] them, no rapture. He thought of what Gallaher had said about rich
[A Little Cloud] [2620] Jewesses. Those dark Oriental eyes, he thought, how full they are
[A Little Cloud] [2621] of passion, of voluptuous longing!... Why had he married the eyes
[A Little Cloud] [2624] He caught himself up at the question and glanced nervously round
[A Little Cloud] [2625] the room. He found something mean in the pretty furniture which
[A Little Cloud] [2626] he had bought for his house on the hire system. Annie had chosen
[A Little Cloud] [2628] dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not
[A Little Cloud] [2630] bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was the
[A Little Cloud] [2631] furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get
[A Little Cloud] [2634] A volume of Byron's poems lay before him on the table. He opened
[A Little Cloud] [2635] it cautiously with his left hand lest he should waken the child and
[A Little Cloud] [2646] He paused. He felt the rhythm of the verse about him in the room.
[A Little Cloud] [2647] How melancholy it was! Could he, too, write like that, express the
[A Little Cloud] [2648] melancholy of his soul in verse? There were so many things he
[A Little Cloud] [2650] Bridge, for example. If he could get back again into that mood....
[A Little Cloud] [2652] The child awoke and began to cry. He turned from the page and
[A Little Cloud] [2653] tried to hush it: but it would not be hushed. He began to rock it to
[A Little Cloud] [2654] and fro in his arms but its wailing cry grew keener. He rocked it
[A Little Cloud] [2661] It was useless. He couldn't read. He couldn't do anything. The
[A Little Cloud] [2663] useless! He was a prisoner for life. His arms trembled with anger
[A Little Cloud] [2664] and suddenly bending to the child's face he shouted:
[A Little Cloud] [2669] to scream. He jumped up from his chair and walked hastily up and
[A Little Cloud] [2673] He tried to soothe it but it sobbed more convulsively. He looked at
[A Little Cloud] [2675] alarmed. He counted seven sobs without a break between them and
[A Little Cloud] [2685] "It's nothing, Annie ... it's nothing.... He began to cry..."
[A Little Cloud] [2692] his heart closed together as he met the hatred in them. He began to
[A Little Cloud] [2695] "It's nothing.... He ... he began to cry.... I couldn't ... I didn't do
[A Little Cloud] [2705] Little Chandler felt his cheeks suffused with shame and he stood
[A Little Cloud] [2706] back out of the lamplight. He listened while the paroxysm of the
[Counterparts] [2723] his chair to stand up. When he stood up he was tall and of great
[Counterparts] [2724] bulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine-coloured, with fair
[Counterparts] [2726] whites of them were dirty. He lifted up the counter and, passing by
[Counterparts] [2729] He went heavily upstairs until he came to the second landing,
[Counterparts] [2731] Here he halted, puffing with labour and vexation, and knocked.
[Counterparts] [2770] that he must have a good night's drinking. The middle of the month
[Counterparts] [2771] was passed and, if he could get the copy done in time, Mr. Alleyne
[Counterparts] [2772] might give him an order on the cashier. He stood still, gazing
[Counterparts] [2775] he had been unaware of the man's presence till that moment, he
[Counterparts] [2786] The man walked heavily towards the door and, as he went out of
[Counterparts] [2787] the room, he heard Mr. Alleyne cry after him that if the contract
[Counterparts] [2790] He returned to his desk in the lower office and counted the sheets
[Counterparts] [2791] which remained to be copied. He took up his pen and dipped it in
[Counterparts] [2792] the ink but he continued to stare stupidly at the last words he had
[Counterparts] [2795] then he could write. He felt that he must slake the thirst in his
[Counterparts] [2796] throat. He stood up from his desk and, lifting the counter as before,
[Counterparts] [2797] passed out of the office. As he was passing out the chief clerk
[Counterparts] [2804] complete, offered no remark. As soon as he was on the landing the
[Counterparts] [2807] he walked on furtively on the inner side of the path towards the
[Counterparts] [2808] corner and all at once dived into a doorway. He was now safe in
[Counterparts] [2811] wine or dark meat, he called out:
[Counterparts] [2816] a gulp and asked for a caraway seed. He put his penny on the
[Counterparts] [2818] retreated out of the snug as furtively as he had entered it.
[Counterparts] [2822] went up by the houses until he reached the door of the office,
[Counterparts] [2823] wondering whether he could finish his copy in time. On the stairs a
[Counterparts] [2825] Delacour had come while he was out in O'Neill's. He crammed his
[Counterparts] [2837] "I know that game," he said. "Five times in one day is a little bit...
[Counterparts] [2842] porter he had gulped down so hastily confused the man and, as he
[Counterparts] [2843] sat down at his desk to get what was required, he realised how
[Counterparts] [2845] half past five. The dark damp night was coming and he longed to
[Counterparts] [2847] and the clatter of glasses. He got out the Delacour correspondence
[Counterparts] [2848] and passed out of the office. He hoped Mr. Alleyne would not
[Counterparts] [2866] desk. He stared intently at the incomplete phrase: In no case shall
[Counterparts] [2874] punches. He struggled on with his copy, but when the clock struck
[Counterparts] [2875] five he had still fourteen pages to write. Blast it! He couldn't finish
[Counterparts] [2876] it in time. He longed to execrate aloud, to bring his fist down on
[Counterparts] [2877] something violently. He was so enraged that he wrote Bernard
[Counterparts] [2881] He felt strong enough to clear out the whole office singlehanded.
[Counterparts] [2883] All the indignities of his life enraged him.... Could he ask the
[Counterparts] [2885] damn good: he wouldn't give an advance.... He knew where he
[Counterparts] [2890] twice before he answered. Mr. Alleyne and Miss Delacour were
[Counterparts] [2894] missing. The man answered that he knew nothing about them, that
[Counterparts] [2895] he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitter
[Counterparts] [2899] "I know nothing about any other two letters," he said stupidly.
[Counterparts] [2902] Alleyne. "Tell me," he added, glancing first for approval to the
[Counterparts] [2907] and back again; and, almost before he was aware of it, his tongue
[Counterparts] [2910] "I don't think, sir," he said, "that that's a fair question to put to me."
[Counterparts] [2916] rose and his mouth twitched with a dwarf s passion. He shook his
[Counterparts] [2929] He stood in a doorway opposite the office watching to see if the
[Counterparts] [2932] say a word to him when he was with the chief clerk. The man felt
[Counterparts] [2933] that his position was bad enough. He had been obliged to offer an
[Counterparts] [2934] abject apology to Mr. Alleyne for his impertinence but he knew
[Counterparts] [2935] what a hornet's nest the office would be for him. He could
[Counterparts] [2937] out of the office in order to make room for his own nephew. He
[Counterparts] [2940] rest; his life would be a hell to him. He had made a proper fool of
[Counterparts] [2941] himself this time. Could he not keep his tongue in his cheek? But
[Counterparts] [2942] they had never pulled together from the first, he and Mr. Alleyne,
[Counterparts] [2945] had been the beginning of it. He might have tried Higgins for the
[Counterparts] [2947] with two establishments to keep up, of course he couldn't....
[Counterparts] [2949] He felt his great body again aching for the comfort of the
[Counterparts] [2950] public-house. The fog had begun to chill him and he wondered
[Counterparts] [2951] could he touch Pat in O'Neill's. He could not touch him for more
[Counterparts] [2952] than a bob--and a bob was no use. Yet he must get money
[Counterparts] [2953] somewhere or other: he had spent his last penny for the g.p. and
[Counterparts] [2955] as he was fingering his watch-chain, he thought of Terry Kelly's
[Counterparts] [2956] pawn-office in Fleet Street. That was the dart! Why didn't he think
[Counterparts] [2959] He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar quickly,
[Counterparts] [2960] muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he was
[Counterparts] [2963] the six shillings was allowed him literally. He came out of the
[Counterparts] [2972] curling fumes punch. As he walked on he preconsidered the terms
[Counterparts] [2973] in which he would narrate the incident to the boys:
[Counterparts] [2980] and, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one,
[Counterparts] [2981] saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood a
[Counterparts] [2984] tailors of malt, hot, all round and told the story of the retort he had
[Counterparts] [2985] made to the chief clerk when he was in Callan's of Fownes's Street;
[Counterparts] [2987] the eclogues, he had to admit that it was not as clever as
[Counterparts] [2992] Higgins! Of course he had to join in with the others. The men
[Counterparts] [2993] asked him to give his version of it, and he did so with great
[Counterparts] [2995] exhilarating. Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way in
[Counterparts] [2996] which Mr. Alleyne shook his fist in Farrington's face. Then he
[Counterparts] [3015] said he would take a small Irish and Apollinaris. Farrington, who
[Counterparts] [3020] hospitality was too Irish. He promised to get them in behind the
[Counterparts] [3022] he and Leonard would go, but that Farrington wouldn't go because
[Counterparts] [3023] he was a married man; and Farrington's heavy dirty eyes leered at
[Counterparts] [3024] the company in token that he understood he was being chaffed.
[Counterparts] [3033] Weathers came back. Much to Farrington's relief he drank a glass
[Counterparts] [3045] answered his gaze he admired still more her large dark brown eyes.
[Counterparts] [3049] London accent. He watched her leave the room in the hope that she
[Counterparts] [3050] would look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed his
[Counterparts] [3051] want of money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly
[Counterparts] [3052] all the whiskies and Apolinaris which he had stood to Weathers. If
[Counterparts] [3053] there was one thing that he hated it was a sponge. He was so angry
[Counterparts] [3054] that he lost count of the conversation of his friends.
[Counterparts] [3056] When Paddy Leonard called him he found that they were talking
[Counterparts] [3072] "You're not to put the weight of your body behind it. Play fair," he
[Counterparts] [3101] waiting for the little Sandymount tram to take him home. He was
[Counterparts] [3102] full of smouldering anger and revengefulness. He felt humiliated
[Counterparts] [3103] and discontented; he did not even feel drunk; and he had only
[Counterparts] [3104] twopence in his pocket. He cursed everything. He had done for
[Counterparts] [3106] he had not even got drunk. He began to feel thirsty again and he
[Counterparts] [3107] longed to be back again in the hot reeking public-house. He had
[Counterparts] [3109] a mere boy. His heart swelled with fury and, when he thought of
[Counterparts] [3113] His tram let him down at Shelbourne Road and he steered his great
[Counterparts] [3114] body along in the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He loathed
[Counterparts] [3115] returning to his home. When he went in by the side- door he found
[Counterparts] [3116] the kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled
[Counterparts] [3122] when he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk.
[Counterparts] [3145] lit the lamp. He began to mimic his son's flat accent, saying half to
[Counterparts] [3147] lamp was lit he banged his fist on the table and shouted:
[Counterparts] [3158] He took a step to the door and seized the walking-stick which was
[Counterparts] [3161] "I'll teach you to let the fire out!" he said, rolling up his sleeve in
[Counterparts] [3172] The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. He
[Counterparts] [3176] "O, pa!" he cried. "Don't beat me, pa! And I'll... I'll say a Hail Mary
[Clay] [3211] because Joe had brought it to her five years before when he and
[Clay] [3216] wouldn't come in drunk. He was so different when he took any
[Clay] [3219] Often he had wanted her to go and live with them;-but she would
[Clay] [3306] gentleman made room for her. He was a stout gentleman and he
[Clay] [3307] wore a brown hard hat; he had a square red face and a greyish
[Clay] [3308] moustache. Maria thought he was a colonel-looking gentleman and
[Clay] [3309] she reflected how much more polite he was than the young men
[Clay] [3311] chat with her about Hallow Eve and the rainy weather. He
[Clay] [3315] with demure nods and hems. He was very nice with her, and when
[Clay] [3317] bowed, and he bowed to her and raised his hat and smiled
[Clay] [3320] gentleman even when he has a drop taken.
[Clay] [3347] But Joe said it didn't matter and made her sit down by the fire. He
[Clay] [3348] was very nice with her. He told her all that went on in his office,
[Clay] [3349] repeating for her a smart answer which he had made to the
[Clay] [3351] the answer he had made but she said that the manager must have
[Clay] [3352] been a very overbearing person to deal with. Joe said he wasn't so
[Clay] [3353] bad when you knew how to take him, that he was a decent sort so
[Clay] [3368] he spoke a word to his brother again and Maria said she was sorry
[Clay] [3372] nearly being a row on the head of it. But Joe said he would not
[Clay] [3403] prayer-book. Maria had never seen Joe so nice to her as he was
[Clay] [3429] her song Joe was very much moved. He said that there was no time
[Clay] [3432] with tears that he could not find what he was looking for and in the
[Clay] [3433] end he had to ask his wife to tell him where the corkscrew was.
[A Painful Case] [3437] MR. JAMES DUFFY lived in Chapelizod because he wished to
[A Painful Case] [3438] live as far as possible from the city of which he was a citizen and
[A Painful Case] [3439] because he found all the other suburbs of Dublin mean, modern
[A Painful Case] [3440] and pretentious. He lived in an old sombre house and from his
[A Painful Case] [3441] windows he could look into the disused distillery or upwards along
[A Painful Case] [3443] uncarpeted room were free from pictures. He had himself bought
[A Painful Case] [3475] disappointed. He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding
[A Painful Case] [3476] his own acts with doubtful side-glasses. He had an odd
[A Painful Case] [3479] the third person and a predicate in the past tense. He never gave
[A Painful Case] [3482] He had been for many years cashier of a private bank in Baggot
[A Painful Case] [3483] Street. Every morning he came in from Chapelizod by tram. At
[A Painful Case] [3484] midday he went to Dan Burke's and took his lunch--a bottle of
[A Painful Case] [3486] he was set free. He dined in an eating-house in George's Street
[A Painful Case] [3487] where he felt himself safe from the society o Dublin's gilded youth
[A Painful Case] [3494] He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived
[A Painful Case] [3497] they died. He performed these two social duties for old dignity's
[A Painful Case] [3499] regulate the civic life. He allowed himself to think that in certain
[A Painful Case] [3500] circumstances he would rob his hank but, as these circumstances
[A Painful Case] [3503] One evening he found himself sitting beside two ladies in the
[A Painful Case] [3511] He took the remark as an invitation to talk. He was surprised that
[A Painful Case] [3512] she seemed so little awkward. While they talked he tried to fix her
[A Painful Case] [3513] permanently in his memory. When he learned that the young girl
[A Painful Case] [3514] beside her was her daughter he judged her to be a year or so
[A Painful Case] [3525] He met her again a few weeks afterwards at a concert in Earlsfort
[A Painful Case] [3534] Meeting her a third time by accident he found courage to make an
[A Painful Case] [3539] stealthily, he forced her to ask him to her house. Captain Sinico
[A Painful Case] [3541] question. He had dismissed his wife so sincerely from his gallery
[A Painful Case] [3542] of pleasures that he did not suspect that anyone else would take an
[A Painful Case] [3545] enjoying the lady's society. Neither he nor she had had any such
[A Painful Case] [3547] Little by little he entangled his thoughts with hers. He lent her
[A Painful Case] [3553] nature open to the full: she became his confessor. He told her that
[A Painful Case] [3554] for some time he had assisted at the meetings of an Irish Socialist
[A Painful Case] [3555] Party where he had felt himself a unique figure amidst a score of
[A Painful Case] [3558] and in its own garret, he had discontinued his attendances. The
[A Painful Case] [3559] workmen's discussions, he said, were too timorous; the interest
[A Painful Case] [3560] they took in the question of wages was inordinate. He felt that they
[A Painful Case] [3563] social revolution, he told her, would be likely to strike Dublin for
[A Painful Case] [3566] She asked him why did he not write out his thoughts. For what, he
[A Painful Case] [3572] He went often to her little cottage outside Dublin; often they spent
[A Painful Case] [3579] of his character, emotionalised his mental life. Sometimes he
[A Painful Case] [3580] caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought
[A Painful Case] [3581] that in her eyes he would ascend to an angelical stature; and, as he
[A Painful Case] [3583] closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he
[A Painful Case] [3591] words disillusioned him. He did not visit her for a week, then he
[A Painful Case] [3592] wrote to her asking her to meet him. As he did not wish their last
[A Painful Case] [3597] to break off their intercourse: every bond, he said, is a bond to
[A Painful Case] [3600] fearing another collapse on her part, he bade her good-bye quickly
[A Painful Case] [3601] and left her. A few days later he received a parcel containing his
[A Painful Case] [3608] Zarathustra and The Gay Science. He wrote seldom in the sheaf of
[A Painful Case] [3613] impossible because there must be sexual intercourse. He kept away
[A Painful Case] [3614] from concerts lest he should meet her. His father died; the junior
[A Painful Case] [3615] partner of the bank retired. And still every morning he went into
[A Painful Case] [3620] One evening as he was about to put a morsel of corned beef and
[A Painful Case] [3622] themselves on a paragraph in the evening paper which he had
[A Painful Case] [3623] propped against the water-carafe. He replaced the morsel of food
[A Painful Case] [3624] on his plate and read the paragraph attentively. Then he drank a
[A Painful Case] [3629] properly cooked. He said it was very good and ate a few mouthfuls
[A Painful Case] [3630] of it with difficulty. Then he paid his bill and went out.
[A Painful Case] [3632] He walked along quickly through the November twilight, his stout
[A Painful Case] [3635] lonely road which leads from the Parkgate to Chapelizod he
[A Painful Case] [3638] condensed in the wintry air. When he reached his house he went
[A Painful Case] [3640] read the paragraph again by the failing light of the window. He
[A Painful Case] [3641] read it not aloud, but moving his lips as a priest does when he
[A Painful Case] [3658] James Lennon, driver of the engine, stated that he had been in the
[A Painful Case] [3660] the guard's whistle he set the train in motion and a second or two
[A Painful Case] [3665] he observed a woman attempting to cross the lines. He ran towards
[A Painful Case] [3666] her and shouted, but, before he could reach her, she was caught by
[A Painful Case] [3673] Police Sergeant Croly deposed that when he arrived he found the
[A Painful Case] [3674] deceased lying on the platform apparently dead. He had the body
[A Painful Case] [3694] he did not think the railway officials were to blame.
[A Painful Case] [3697] deceased, also gave evidence. He stated that the deceased was his
[A Painful Case] [3698] wife. He was not in Dublin at the time of the accident as he had
[A Painful Case] [3711] great sympathy with Captain Sinico and his daughter. He urged on
[A Painful Case] [3725] he had ever spoken to her of what he held sacred. The threadbare
[A Painful Case] [3729] herself; she had degraded him. He saw the squalid tract of her vice,
[A Painful Case] [3730] miserable and malodorous. His soul's companion! He thought of
[A Painful Case] [3731] the hobbling wretches whom he had seen carrying cans and bottles
[A Painful Case] [3735] reared. But that she could have sunk so low! Was it possible he
[A Painful Case] [3736] had deceived himself so utterly about her? He remembered her
[A Painful Case] [3737] outburst of that night and interpreted it in a harsher sense than he
[A Painful Case] [3738] had ever done. He had no difficulty now in approving of the course
[A Painful Case] [3739] he had taken.
[A Painful Case] [3741] As the light failed and his memory began to wander he thought her
[A Painful Case] [3743] was now attacking his nerves. He put on his overcoat and hat
[A Painful Case] [3745] crept into the sleeves of his coat. When he came to the
[A Painful Case] [3746] public-house at Chapelizod Bridge he went in and ordered a hot
[A Painful Case] [3756] and he called for another punch. He sat a long time over it. The
[A Painful Case] [3761] As he sat there, living over his life with her and evoking
[A Painful Case] [3762] alternately the two images in which he now conceived her, he
[A Painful Case] [3764] had become a memory. He began to feel ill at ease. He asked
[A Painful Case] [3765] himself what else could he have done. He could not have carried
[A Painful Case] [3766] on a comedy of deception with her; he could not have lived with
[A Painful Case] [3767] her openly. He had done what seemed to him best. How was he to
[A Painful Case] [3768] blame? Now that she was gone he understood how lonely her life
[A Painful Case] [3770] life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became
[A Painful Case] [3773] It was after nine o'clock when he left the shop. The night was cold
[A Painful Case] [3774] and gloomy. He entered the Park by the first gate and walked along
[A Painful Case] [3775] under the gaunt trees. He walked through the bleak alleys where
[A Painful Case] [3777] the darkness. At moments he seemed to feel her voice touch his
[A Painful Case] [3778] ear, her hand touch his. He stood still to listen. Why had he
[A Painful Case] [3779] withheld life from her? Why had he sentenced her to death? He
[A Painful Case] [3782] When he gained the crest of the Magazine Hill he halted and
[A Painful Case] [3784] redly and hospitably in the cold night. He looked down the slope
[A Painful Case] [3785] and, at the base, in the shadow of the wall of the Park, he saw
[A Painful Case] [3787] with despair. He gnawed the rectitude of his life; he felt that he
[A Painful Case] [3789] love him and he had denied her life and happiness: he had
[A Painful Case] [3790] sentenced her to ignominy, a death of shame. He knew that the
[A Painful Case] [3792] wished him gone. No one wanted him; he was outcast from life's
[A Painful Case] [3793] feast. He turned his eyes to the grey gleaming river, winding along
[A Painful Case] [3794] towards Dublin. Beyond the river he saw a goods train winding out
[A Painful Case] [3797] out of sight; but still he heard in his ears the laborious drone of the
[A Painful Case] [3800] He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine
[A Painful Case] [3801] pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what
[A Painful Case] [3802] memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm
[A Painful Case] [3803] to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her
[A Painful Case] [3804] voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He
[A Painful Case] [3805] could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened
[A Painful Case] [3806] again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3813] but, as he set himself to fan the fire again, his crouching shadow
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3818] cinders had caught he laid the piece of cardboard against the wall,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3826] he undid his handiwork meditatively. Then he began to roll the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3830] "Did Mr. Tierney say when he'd be back?" he asked in a sky
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3833] "He didn't say."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3836] pockets. He took out a pack of thin pasteboard cards.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3842] He selected one of the cards and read what was printed on it:
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3856] let in the wet, he spent a great part of the day sitting by the fire in
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3862] cigarette. As he did so the flame lit up a leaf of dark glossy ivy the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3867] "Ah, yes," he said, continuing, "it's hard to know what way to bring
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3869] the Christian Brothers and I done what I could him, and there he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3872] He replaced the cardboard wearily.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3882] it, only impudence. He takes th'upper hand of me whenever he sees
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3886] "What age is he?" said Mr. O'Connor.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3892] "Sure, amn't I never done at the drunken bowsy ever since he left
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3894] But, sure, it's worse whenever he gets a job; he drinks it all."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3911] He was a tall, slender young man with a light brown moustache.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3915] "Well, Mat," he said to Mr. O'Connor, "how goes it?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3919] which he thrust one after the other into the fire and carried to the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3927] "Has he paid you yet?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3934] "O, he'll pay you. Never fear," he said.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3936] "I hope he'll look smart about it if he means business," said Mr.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3944] "It isn't but he has it, anyway. Not like the other tinker."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3960] He goes in to represent the labour classes. This fellow you're
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3975] Edward Rex if he comes here next year? What do we want
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3978] "Our man won't vote for the address," said Mr. O'Connor. "He goes
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3981] "Won't he?" said Mr. Hynes. "Wait till you see whether he will or
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3989] down the collar of his coat, displaying, as he did so, an ivy leaf in
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3992] "If this man was alive," he said, pointing to the leaf, "we'd have no
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4001] snuffling nose and very cold ears pushed in the door. He walked
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4002] over quickly to the fire, rubbing his hands as if he intended to
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4005] "No money, boys," he said.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4012] He nodded curtly to Mr. Hynes and sat down on the chair which
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4015] "Did you serve Aungier Street?" he asked Mr. O'Connor.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4024] "Well? How does he stand?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4026] "He wouldn't promise. He said: 'I won't tell anyone what way I'm
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4031] "He asked me who the nominators were; and I told him. I
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4035] terrific speed. Then he said:
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4043] shoeboy, but he said: 'Oh, now, Mr. Henchy, when I see work
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4045] tinker! 'Usha, how could he be anything else?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4050] "0, he's as tricky as they make 'em," said Mr. Henchy. "He hasn't
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4051] got those little pigs' eyes for nothing. Blast his soul! Couldn't he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4054] hell! I suppose he forgets the time his little old father kept the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4063] you mind now? That's that. That's where he first saw the light."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4065] The old man returned with a few lumps of coal which he placed
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4068] "Thats a nice how-do-you-do," said Mr. O'Connor. "How does he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4069] expect us to work for him if he won't stump up?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4077] "It'll be all right when King Eddie comes," he said. "Well boys, I'm
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4080] He went out of the room slowly. Neither Mr. Henchy nor the old
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4089] "Tell me," he said across the fire, "what brings our friend in here?
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4090] What does he want?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4095] Mr. Henchy snuffled vigorously and spat so copiously that he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4098] "To tell you my private and candid opinion," he said, "I think he's a
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4106] "Poor old Larry Hynes! Many a good turn he did in his day! But I'm
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4109] fellow sponging. Couldn't he have some spark of manhood about
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4112] "He doesn't get a warm welcome from me when he comes," said
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4116] "I don't know," said Mr. O'Connor dubiously, as he took out
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4119] he wrote...?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4138] and thank the Almighty Christ he had a country to sell."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4146] body and it was impossible to say whether he wore a clergyman's
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4149] turned up about his neck. He wore a round hat of hard black felt.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4152] He opened his very long mouth suddenly to express
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4159] "O, no, no, no!" said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips as if he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4174] He retreated from the doorway and Mr. Henchy, seizing one of the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4188] He sat down again at the fire. There was silence for a few
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4196] "What he is exactly?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4201] Kavanagh's together. Is he a priest at all?"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4207] "And how does he knock it out?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4211] "Is he attached to any chapel or church or institution or---"
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4214] account.... God forgive me," he added, "I thought he was the dozen
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4222] he send up a dozen of stout. I asked him again now, but he was
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4228] "Well, I couldn't go over while he was talking to Alderman
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4231] H.,' he said. Yerra, sure the little hop-o'- my-thumb has forgotten
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4260] haven't much entertaining now,' says I. 'Entertaining!' says he. 'He'd
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4261] live on the smell of an oil- rag.' And do you know what he told
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4266] "He told me: 'What do you think of a Lord Mayor of Dublin
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4268] high living?' says he. 'Wisha! wisha,' says I. 'A pound of chops,'
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4269] says he, 'coming into the Mansion House.' 'Wisha!' says I, 'what
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4312] loan of him. He means well, you know, in his own tinpot way."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4325] "What age are you?" he asked.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4332] sleeve. Then he took up the corkscrew and went out of the door
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4339] The old man distributed the three bottles which he had opened and
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4351] chap, of course), but he's not worth a damn as a canvasser. He
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4352] hasn't a word to throw to a dog. He stands and looks at the people
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4357] his sloping figure. He had a big face which resembled a young ox's
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4360] clean-shaven face. He wore a very high double collar and a
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4385] He took two bottles from the table and, carrying them to the fire,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4386] put them on the hob. Then he sat dow-n again by the fire and took
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4391] "Which is my bottle?" he asked.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4396] bottle on the hob. He was silent for two reasons. The first reason,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4397] sufficient in itself, was that he had nothing to say; the second
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4398] reason was that he considered his companions beneath him. He
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4401] two evils, given their support to the Nationalist candidate, he had
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4414] Ward of Dawson Street. Fine old chap he is, too--regular old toff,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4415] old Conservative! 'But isn't your candidate a Nationalist?' said he.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4417] benefit this country. He's a big ratepayer,' I said. 'He has extensive
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4420] respected citizen,' said I, 'and a Poor Law Guardian, and he doesn't
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4440] him out of it till the man was grey. He's a man of the world, and he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4442] and no damn nonsense about him. He just says to himself: 'The old
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4444] see what they're like.' And are we going to insult the man when he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4465] he did Parnell was a fit man to lead us? And why, then, would we
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4470] gone--even the Conservatives," he added, turning to Mr. Crofton.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4473] got up from his box and went to the fire. As he returned with his
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4474] capture he said in a deep voice:
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4476] "Our side of the house respects him, because he was a gentleman."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4478] "Right you are, Crofton!" said Mr. Henchy fiercely. "He was the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4480] Lie down, ye curs!' That's the way he treated them. Come in, Joe!
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4481] Come in!" he called out, catching sight of Mr. Hynes in the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4490] The old man handed him another bottle and he placed it on the
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4514] they were alluding, but, after reflecting a while, he said:
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4522] Mr. Hynes hesitated a little longer. Then amid the silence he took
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4523] off his hat, laid it on the table and stood up. He seemed to be
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4524] rehearsing the piece in his mind. After a rather long pause he
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4532] He cleared his throat once or twice and then began to recite:
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4535] He is dead. Our Uncrowned King is dead.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4537] For he lies dead whom the fell gang
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4539] He lies slain by the coward hounds
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4540] He raised to glory from the mire;
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4545] Is bowed with woe--for he is gone
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4547] He would have had his Erin famed,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4551] He dreamed (alas, 'twas but a dream!)
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4552] Of Liberty: but as he strove
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4554] Sundered him from the thing he loved.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4563] He fell as fall the mighty ones,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4568] Calmly he rests: no human pain
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4581] Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. When he had finished his
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4587] remained sitting flushed and bare-headed on the table. He did not
[A Mother] [4603] series of concerts. He had a game leg and for this his friends called
[A Mother] [4604] him Hoppy Holohan. He walked up and down constantly, stood by
[A Mother] [4622] He was much older than she. His conversation, which was serious,
[A Mother] [4626] romantic ideas away. He was sober, thrifty and pious; he went to
[A Mother] [4630] ever so slightly he stood up to take his leave and, when his cough
[A Mother] [4632] strong rum punch. For his part, he was a model father. By paying a
[A Mother] [4633] small sum every week into a society, he ensured for both his
[A Mother] [4635] the age of twenty-four. He sent the older daughter, Kathleen, to a
[A Mother] [4682] And while he was helping himself she said:
[A Mother] [4707] hand. He was a little man, with a white, vacant face. She noticed
[A Mother] [4708] that he wore his soft brown hat carelessly on the side of his head
[A Mother] [4709] and that his accent was flat. He held a programme in his hand, and,
[A Mother] [4710] while he was talking to her, he chewed one end of it into a moist
[A Mother] [4711] pulp. He seemed to bear disappointments lightly. Mr. Holohan
[A Mother] [4729] what it meant. He said that the committee had made a mistake in
[A Mother] [4736] committee, he said, had decided to let the first three concerts go as
[A Mother] [4750] dress rehearsal. Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to enjoy himself; he was
[A Mother] [4752] conduct. He stood at the edge of the screen, from time to time
[A Mother] [4758] out Mr. Holohan. She buttonholed him as he was limping out
[A Mother] [4765] Mr. Holohan seemed to be in a hurry; he advised her to speak to
[A Mother] [4772] quickly, seemed unable to resolve the difficulty and said that he
[A Mother] [4787] well to tell her husband part of her suspicions. He listened
[A Mother] [4788] carefully and said that perhaps it would be better if he went with
[A Mother] [4793] She was glad that he had suggested coming with her. She thought
[A Mother] [4824] with a scattered black moustache. He was the son of a hall porter
[A Mother] [4825] in an office in the city and, as a boy, he had sung prolonged bass
[A Mother] [4826] notes in the resounding hall. From this humble state he had raised
[A Mother] [4827] himself until he had become a first-rate artiste. He had appeared in
[A Mother] [4828] grand opera. One night, when an operatic artiste had fallen ill, he
[A Mother] [4830] Queen's Theatre. He sang his music with great feeling and volume
[A Mother] [4831] and was warmly welcomed by the gallery; but, unfortunately, he
[A Mother] [4833] once or twice out of thoughtlessness. He was unassuming and
[A Mother] [4834] spoke little. He said yous so softly that it passed unnoticed and he
[A Mother] [4837] every year for prizes at the Feis Ceoil. On his fourth trial he had
[A Mother] [4838] been awarded a bronze medal. He was extremely nervous and
[A Mother] [4839] extremely jealous of other tenors and he covered his nervous
[A Mother] [4842] he saw Mr. Duggan he went over to him and asked:
[A Mother] [4908] O'Madden Burke. The Freeman man had come in to say that he
[A Mother] [4909] could not wait for the concert as he had to report the lecture which
[A Mother] [4910] an American priest was giving in the Mansion House. He said they
[A Mother] [4911] were to leave the report for him at the Freeman office and he
[A Mother] [4912] would see that it went in. He was a grey-haired man, with a
[A Mother] [4913] plausible voice and careful manners. He held an extinguished cigar
[A Mother] [4914] in his hand and the aroma of cigar smoke floated near him. He had
[A Mother] [4916] him considerably but he remained leaning against the mantelpiece.
[A Mother] [4917] Miss Healy stood in front of him, talking and laughing. He was old
[A Mother] [4920] colour of her body appealed to his senses. He was pleasantly
[A Mother] [4921] conscious that the bosom which he saw rise and fall slowly
[A Mother] [4923] and fragrance and wilful glances were his tribute. When he could
[A Mother] [4924] stay no longer he took leave of her regretfully.
[A Mother] [4926] "O'Madden Burke will write the notice," he explained to Mr.
[A Mother] [4939] by instinct. He was a suave, elderly man who balanced his
[A Mother] [4942] he balanced the fine problem of his finances. He was widely
[A Mother] [4946] Kearney was speaking so animatedly to her husband that he had to
[A Mother] [4955] Mr. Bell's nerves were greatly agitated because he was afraid the
[A Mother] [4956] audience would think that he had come late.
[A Mother] [4959] moment Mr. Holohan perceived the hush. He went over to Mrs.
[A Mother] [4962] and excited. He spoke volubly, but Mrs. Kearney said curtly at
[A Mother] [4968] audience was clapping and stamping. He appealed to Mr Kearney
[A Mother] [4981] The baritone had not seen her but he had been told that she was
[A Mother] [4991] whistling. Mr. Fitzpatrick held a few banknotes in his hand. He
[A Mother] [5018] O'Madden Burke said it was the most scandalous exhibition he had
[A Mother] [5020] in Dublin after that, he said. The baritone was asked what did he
[A Mother] [5021] think of Mrs. Kearney's conduct. He did not like to say anything.
[A Mother] [5022] He had been paid his money and wished to be at peace with men.
[A Mother] [5023] However, he said that Mrs. Kearney might have taken the artistes
[A Mother] [5030] In another corner of the room were Mrs. Kearney and he: husband,
[A Mother] [5043] to the second tenor who said he thought she had not been well
[A Mother] [5097] He went out at once. Mrs. Kearney wrapped the cloak round her
[A Mother] [5106] up and down the room, in order to cool himself for he his skin on
[A Mother] [5109] "That's a nice lady!" he said. "O, she's a nice lady!"
[Grace] [5117] lift him up: but he was quite helpless. He lay curled up at the foot
[Grace] [5118] of the stairs down which he had fallen. They succeeded in turning
[Grace] [5120] smeared with the filth and ooze of the floor on which he had lain,
[Grace] [5121] face downwards. His eyes were closed and he breathed with a
[Grace] [5127] minutes he was surrounded by a ring of men. The manager of the
[Grace] [5128] bar asked everyone who he was and who was with him. No one
[Grace] [5129] knew who he was but one of the curates said he had served the
[Grace] [5132] "Was he by himself?" asked the manager.
[Grace] [5147] His collar was unfastened and his necktie undone. He opened eyes
[Grace] [5156] The manager at once began to narrate what he knew. The costable,
[Grace] [5157] a young man with thick immobile features, listened. He moved his
[Grace] [5159] on the floor, as if he feared to be the victim some delusion. Then
[Grace] [5160] he drew off his glove, produced a small book from his waist,
[Grace] [5161] licked the lead of his pencil and made ready to indite. He asked in
[Grace] [5167] bystanders. He knelt down promptly beside the injured man and
[Grace] [5172] brandy was forced down the man's throat. In a few seconds he
[Grace] [5173] opened his eyes and looked about him. He looked at the circle of
[Grace] [5180] He was helped to his feet. The manager said something about a
[Grace] [5187] moustache. He made light of his accident. It was nothing, he said:
[Grace] [5188] only a little accident. He spoke very thickly.
[Grace] [5195] spectacle, he called out:
[Grace] [5236] an outsider. The injured man said again as well as he could.
[Grace] [5246] while Mr. Power was giving directions to the carman, he expressed
[Grace] [5258] "I'an't 'an," he answered, "'y 'ongue is hurt."
[Grace] [5263] Kernan's mouth but he could not see. He struck a match and,
[Grace] [5277] believed in the dignity of its calling. He had never been seen in the
[Grace] [5279] grace of these two articles of clothing, he said, a man could always
[Grace] [5280] pass muster. He carried on the tradition of his Napoleon, the great
[Grace] [5281] Blackwhite, whose memory he evoked at times by legend and
[Grace] [5288] full of a black liquid. From these bowls Mr. Kernan tasted tea. He
[Grace] [5290] spat it forth into the grate. Then he paused to judge.
[Grace] [5298] debts were a byword in his circle; he was a debonair young man.
[Grace] [5305] their mother's absence, began some horseplay with him. He was
[Grace] [5313] Mr. Power was careful to explain to her that he was not
[Grace] [5314] responsible, that he had come on the scene by the merest accident.
[Grace] [5320] his, not like some of the others he does be with. They're all right so
[Grace] [5321] long as he has money in his pocket to keep him out from his wife
[Grace] [5322] and family. Nice friends! Who was he with tonight, I'd like to
[Grace] [5333] "We were waiting for him to come home with the money. He
[Grace] [5334] never seems to think he has a home at all."
[Grace] [5347] He got up on the car. As it drove off he raised his hat to her gaily.
[Grace] [5349] "We'll make a new man of him," he said. "Good-night, Mrs.
[Grace] [5384] dutifully whenever he was sick and always tried to make him eat a
[Grace] [5385] breakfast. There were worse husbands. He had never been violent
[Grace] [5386] since the boys had grown up, and she knew that he would walk to
[Grace] [5394] irritable during the day, became more polite. He sat propped up in
[Grace] [5396] them resemble warm cinders. He apologised to his guests for the
[Grace] [5400] He was quite unconscious that he was the victim of a plot which
[Grace] [5404] Mr. Kernan came of Protestant stock and, though he had been
[Grace] [5405] converted to the Catholic faith at the time of his marriage, he had
[Grace] [5406] not been in the pale of the Church for twenty years. He was fond,
[Grace] [5409] Mr. Cunningham was the very man for such a case. He was an
[Grace] [5412] he had married an unpresentable woman who was an incurable
[Grace] [5413] drunkard. He had set up house for her six times; and each time she
[Grace] [5416] Everyone had respect for poor Martin Cunningham. He was a
[Grace] [5420] brief immersions in the waters of general philosophy. He was well
[Grace] [5443] that he had once known a similar case. A man of seventy had
[Grace] [5457] distance between two points and for short periods he had been
[Grace] [5458] driven to live by his wits. He had been a clerk in the Midland
[Grace] [5462] Sub-Sheriff, and he had recently become secretary to the City
[Grace] [5480] He looked at Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Power at the same time
[Grace] [5511] He had begun life as an obscure financier by lending small sums of
[Grace] [5512] money to workmen at usurious interest. Later on he had become
[Grace] [5514] Liffey Loan Bank. Though he had never embraced more than the
[Grace] [5521] "I wonder where did he go to," said Mr. Kernan.
[Grace] [5523] He wished the details of the incident to remain vague. He wished
[Grace] [5525] and he had missed each other. His friends, who knew quite well
[Grace] [5533] "That was a decent young chap, that medical fellow," he said.
[Grace] [5540] there was a policeman. Decent young fellow, he seemed. How did
[Grace] [5550] Mr. Power did not relish the use of his Christian name. He was not
[Grace] [5551] straight-laced, but he could not forget that Mr. M'Coy had recently
[Grace] [5554] than he resented the fact that he had been victimised he resented
[Grace] [5555] such low playing of the game. He answered the question,
[Grace] [5558] The narrative made Mr. Kernan indignant. He was keenly
[Grace] [5561] those whom he called country bumpkins.
[Grace] [5563] "Is this what we pay rates for?" he asked. "To feed and clothe these
[Grace] [5566] Mr. Cunningham laughed. He was a Castle official only during
[Grace] [5569] "How could they be anything else, Tom?" he said.
[Grace] [5571] He assumed a thick, provincial accent and said in a tone of
[Grace] [5577] conversation by any door, pretended that he had never heard the
[Grace] [5585] He illustrated the story by grotesque gestures.
[Grace] [5587] "At dinner, you know. Then he has a bloody big bowl of cabbage
[Grace] [5588] before him on the table and a bloody big spoon like a shovel. He
[Grace] [5594] still. He talked of writing a letter to the papers.
[Grace] [5596] "These yahoos coming up here," he said, "think they can boss the
[Grace] [5601] "It's like everything else in this world," he said. "You get some bad
[Grace] [5628] He assumed such a comical face and voice that the distribution of
[Grace] [5653] There was a short silence. Mr. Kernan waited to see whether he
[Grace] [5654] would be taken into his friends' confidence. Then he asked:
[Grace] [5675] He uttered the metaphor with a certain homely energy and,
[Grace] [5679] scoundrels, one and all. I say, one and all," he added with gruff
[Grace] [5688] A thought seemed to strike him. He turned suddenly to the invalid
[Grace] [5698] about to concern themselves on his behalf, he thought he owed it
[Grace] [5699] to his dignity to show a stiff neck. He took no part in the
[Grace] [5703] "I haven't such a bad opinion of the Jesuits," he said, intervening at
[Grace] [5750] Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was
[Grace] [5751] impressed. He had a high opinion of Mr. Cunningham as a judge
[Grace] [5752] of character and as a reader of faces. He asked for particulars.
[Grace] [5757] "He won't be too hard on us, Tom," said Mr. Power persuasively.
[Grace] [5768] "And tell me, Martin.... Is he a good preacher?"
[Grace] [5783] "And yet they say he wasn't much of a theologian," said Mr
[Grace] [5789] say, he didn't preach what was quite orthodox."
[Grace] [5791] "Ah!... he was a splendid man," said Mr. M'Coy.
[Grace] [5802] hadn't he a voice! The Prisoner of the Vatican, he called him. I
[Grace] [5805] "But he's an Orangeman, Crofton, isn't he?" said Mr. Power.
[Grace] [5807] "'Course he is," said Mr. Kernan, "and a damned decent
[Grace] [5810] his very words. Kernan, he said, we worship at different altars, he
[Grace] [5821] He hesitated for a moment.
[Grace] [5843] pleasantly astonished eyes. Mr. Fogarty was a modest grocer. He
[Grace] [5846] second-class distillers and brewers. He had opened a small shop on
[Grace] [5847] Glasnevin Road where, he flattered himself, his manners would
[Grace] [5848] ingratiate him with the housewives of the district. He bore himself
[Grace] [5850] neat enunciation. He was not without culture.
[Grace] [5853] He inquired politely for Mr. Kernan, placed his gift on the table
[Grace] [5855] appreciated the gift all the more since he was aware that there was
[Grace] [5857] Fogarty. He said:
[Grace] [5870] "I often heard he was one of the most intellectual men in Europe,"
[Grace] [5873] "So he was," said Mr. Cunningham, "if not the most so. His motto,
[Grace] [5890] "He had a strong face," said Mr. Kernan.
[Grace] [5892] "Yes," said Mr. Cunningham. "He wrote Latin poetry."
[Grace] [5913] He enunciated the word and then drank gravely.
[Grace] [5923] He also drank from his glass.
[Grace] [5933] Mr. Kernan seemed to be troubled in mind. He made an effort to
[Grace] [5937] "Tell me, Martin," he said. "Weren't some of the popes--of
[Grace] [5951] explained, "he is infallible."
[Grace] [5958] Mr. Fogarty interrupted. He took up the bottle and helped the
[Grace] [5960] enough to go round, pleaded that he had not finished his first
[Grace] [5996] He drank and the other gentlemen followed his lead. Then he
[Grace] [6008] "Credo!" said Mr. Cunningham "That showed the faith he had. He
[Grace] [6013] "The German cardinal wouldn't submit. He left the church."
[Grace] [6025] He turned towards his wife to be confirmed.
[Grace] [6039] "God!" he exclaimed, resuming his natural face, "I never saw such
[Grace] [6041] properly taped, my lad. He had an eye like a hawk."
[Grace] [6051] He swept his arm round the company inclusively.
[Grace] [6065] "If he doesn't like it," he said bluntly, "he can... do the other thing.
[Grace] [6070] "We'll all renounce the devil," he said, "together, not forgetting his
[Grace] [6076] Mr. Power said nothing. He felt completely out-generalled. But a
[Grace] [6094] He shook his head with farcical gravity.
[Grace] [6130] when the party had settled down in the form of a quincunx, he had
[Grace] [6132] well received, he had desisted. Even he was sensible of the
[Grace] [6133] decorous atmosphere and even he began to respond to the religious
[Grace] [6144] figure. Gradually, as he recognised familiar faces, Mr. Kernan
[Grace] [6146] by his wife, rested upon his knees. Once or twice he pulled down
[Grace] [6147] his cuffs with one hand while he held the brim of his hat lightly,
[Grace] [6159] and, covering his face with his hands, prayed. After an interval, he
[Grace] [6165] array of faces. Then he said:
[Grace] [6173] one of the most difficult texts in all the Scriptures, he said, to
[Grace] [6176] Jesus Christ. But, he told his hearers, the text had seemed to him
[Grace] [6184] and in this sentence He designed to give them a word of counsel,
[Grace] [6189] He told his hearers that he was there that evening for no terrifying,
[Grace] [6191] fellow-men. He came to speak to business men and he would
[Grace] [6192] speak to them in a businesslike way. If he might use the metaphor,
[Grace] [6193] he said, he was their spiritual accountant; and he wished each and
[Grace] [6197] Jesus Christ was not a hard taskmaster. He understood our little
[Grace] [6201] our failings. But one thing only, he said, he would ask of his
[The Dead] [6261] influence; and when he was like that it was sometimes very hard to
[The Dead] [6274] He stood on the mat, scraping the snow from his goloshes, while
[The Dead] [6286] He continued scraping his feet vigorously while the three women
[The Dead] [6303] "Yes, Lily," he answered, "and I think we're in for a night of it."
[The Dead] [6305] He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with the
[The Dead] [6310] "Tell me. Lily," he said in a friendly tone, "do you still go to
[The Dead] [6324] Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake and, without
[The Dead] [6328] He was a stout, tallish young man. The high colour of his cheeks
[The Dead] [6337] When he had flicked lustre into his shoes he stood up and pulled
[The Dead] [6338] his waistcoat down more tightly on his plump body. Then he took
[The Dead] [6341] "O Lily," he said, thrusting it into her hands, "it's Christmastime,
[The Dead] [6344] He walked rapidly towards the door.
[The Dead] [6352] The girl, seeing that he had gained the stairs, called out after him:
[The Dead] [6356] He waited outside the drawing-room door until the waltz should
[The Dead] [6358] shuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl's bitter and
[The Dead] [6359] sudden retort. It had cast a gloom over him which he tried to dispel
[The Dead] [6360] by arranging his cuffs and the bows of his tie. He then took from
[The Dead] [6361] his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced at the headings he
[The Dead] [6362] had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from
[The Dead] [6363] Robert Browning, for he feared they would be above the heads of
[The Dead] [6367] reminded him that their grade of culture differed from his. He
[The Dead] [6369] which they could not understand. They would think that he was
[The Dead] [6370] airing his superior education. He would fail with them just as he
[The Dead] [6371] had failed with the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong
[The Dead] [6387] They both kissed Gabriel frankly. He was their favourite nephew
[The Dead] [6414] never guess what he makes me wear now!"
[The Dead] [6422] underfoot I must put on my galoshes. Tonight even, he wanted me
[The Dead] [6444] Gabriel knitted his brows and said, as if he were slightly angered:
[The Dead] [6484] don't let him up if he's screwed. I'm sure he's screwed. I'm sure he
[The Dead] [6487] Gabriel went to the stairs and listened over the banisters. He could
[The Dead] [6488] hear two persons talking in the pantry. Then he recognised Freddy
[The Dead] [6489] Malins' laugh. He went down the stairs noisily.
[The Dead] [6509] He did not finish his sentence, but, seeing that Aunt Kate was out
[The Dead] [6521] took anything strong, he opened three bottles of lemonade for
[The Dead] [6522] them. Then he asked one of the young men to move aside, and,
[The Dead] [6524] of whisky. The young men eyed him respectfully while he took a
[The Dead] [6527] "God help me," he said, smiling, "it's the doctor's orders."
[The Dead] [6544] His hot face had leaned forward a little too confidentially and he
[The Dead] [6549] that he was ignored, turned promptly to the two young men who
[The Dead] [6597] hanging lobes of his ears and at the wide wings of his nose. He had
[The Dead] [6600] scanty hair made him look sleepy. He was laughing heartily in a
[The Dead] [6601] high key at a story which he had been telling Gabriel on the stairs
[The Dead] [6611] repeat in an undertone the story he had just told to Gabriel.
[The Dead] [6613] "He's not so bad, is he?" said Aunt Kate to Gabriel.
[The Dead] [6615] Gabriel's brows were dark but he raised them quickly and
[The Dead] [6620] "Now, isn't he a terrible fellow!" she said. "And his poor mother
[The Dead] [6639] glass of whisky while Freddy Malins exploded, before he had well
[The Dead] [6648] drawing-room. He liked music but the piece she was playing had
[The Dead] [6649] no melody for him and he doubted whether it had any melody for
[The Dead] [6678] in the Royal University. A shadow passed over his face as he
[The Dead] [6685] He knew that Mary Jane must be near the end of her piece for she
[The Dead] [6687] every bar and while he waited for the end the resentment died
[The Dead] [6714] Gabriel coloured and was about to knit his brows, as if he did not
[The Dead] [6726] A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel's face. It was true that he
[The Dead] [6728] for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him
[The Dead] [6729] a West Briton surely. The books he received for review were
[The Dead] [6730] almost more welcome than the paltry cheque. He loved to feel the
[The Dead] [6732] every day when his teaching in the college was ended he used to
[The Dead] [6735] Quay, or to O'Clohissey's in the bystreet. He did not know how to
[The Dead] [6736] meet her charge. He wanted to say that literature was above
[The Dead] [6739] teachers: he could not risk a grandiose phrase with her. He
[The Dead] [6741] lamely that he saw nothing political in writing reviews of books.
[The Dead] [6743] When their turn to cross had come he was still perplexed and
[The Dead] [6809] They had to go visiting together and, as he had not answered her,
[The Dead] [6815] great energy. He avoided her eyes for he had seen a sour
[The Dead] [6816] expression on her face. But when they met in the long chain he
[The Dead] [6818] from under her brows for a moment quizzically until he smiled.
[The Dead] [6828] Freddy had come and that he was nearly all right. Gabriel asked
[The Dead] [6837] was an enthusiast but there was a time for all things. Perhaps he
[The Dead] [6843] He saw his wife making her way towards him through the waltzing
[The Dead] [6883] day he caught a beautiful big fish and the man in the hotel cooked
[The Dead] [6887] near he began to think again about his speech and about the
[The Dead] [6888] quotation. When he saw Freddy Malins coming across the room to
[The Dead] [6901] He ran over the headings of his speech: Irish hospitality, sad
[The Dead] [6903] He repeated to himself a phrase he had written in his review: "One
[The Dead] [6909] while he spoke with her critical quizzing eyes. Perhaps she would
[The Dead] [6911] mind and gave him courage. He would say, alluding to Aunt Kate
[The Dead] [6917] good: that was one for Miss Ivors. What did he care that his aunts
[The Dead] [6941] when he could clap no more, he stood up suddenly and hurried
[The Dead] [6942] across the room to Aunt Julia whose hand he seized and held in
[The Dead] [6946] "I was just telling my mother," he said, "I never heard you sing so
[The Dead] [6960] He was laughing very heartily at this himself when Freddy Malins
[The Dead] [7065] hall-door. Gabriel asked himself was he the cause of her abrupt
[The Dead] [7067] away laughing. He stared blankly down the staircase.
[The Dead] [7103] goose. He felt quite at ease now for he was an expert carver and
[The Dead] [7107] "Miss Furlong, what shall I send you?" he asked. "A wing or a slice
[The Dead] [7128] Gabriel began to carve second helpings as soon as he had finished
[The Dead] [7130] so that he compromised by taking a long draught of stout for he
[The Dead] [7148] "Very well," said Gabriel amiably, as he took another preparatory
[The Dead] [7152] He set to his supper and took no part in the conversation with
[The Dead] [7160] had one of the finest tenor voices he had ever heard.
[The Dead] [7162] "Have you heard him?" he asked Mr. Bartell D'Arcy across the
[The Dead] [7168] your opinion of him. I think he has a grand voice."
[The Dead] [7173] "And why couldn't he have a voice too?" asked Freddy Malins
[The Dead] [7182] Aramburo. Those were the days, he said, when there was
[The Dead] [7183] something like singing to be heard in Dublin. He told too of how
[The Dead] [7190] play the grand old operas now, he asked, Dinorah, Lucrezia
[The Dead] [7212] "Who was he, Miss Morkan?" asked Mr. Bartell D'Arcy politely.
[The Dead] [7214] "His name," said Aunt Kate, "was Parkinson. I heard him when he
[The Dead] [7215] was in his prime and I think he had then the purest tenor voice that
[The Dead] [7241] ate it with his pudding. He had been told that celery was a capital
[The Dead] [7242] thing for the blood and he was just then under doctor's care. Mrs.
[The Dead] [7260] He was astonished to hear that the monks never spoke, got up at
[The Dead] [7261] two in the morning and slept in their coffins. He asked what they
[The Dead] [7270] best he could, that the monks were trying to make up for the sins
[The Dead] [7289] nudged him and whispered something to him upon which he
[The Dead] [7301] upturned faces he raised his eyes to the chandelier. The piano was
[The Dead] [7302] playing a waltz tune and he could hear the skirts sweeping against
[The Dead] [7310] He began:
[The Dead] [7331] He made a circle in the air with his arm and paused. Everyone
[The Dead] [7352] away discourteously: and he said with confidence in himself:
[The Dead] [7397] "He says we are the Three Graces, Aunt Julia," said Mary Jane.
[The Dead] [7419] hastened to his close. He raised his glass of port gallantly, while
[The Dead] [7442] Unless he tells a lie,
[The Dead] [7443] Unless he tells a lie,
[The Dead] [7473] "Really," she said archly, "he is very attentive."
[The Dead] [7475] "He has been laid on here like the gas," said Aunt Kate in the same
[The Dead] [7482] goodness he didn't hear me."
[The Dead] [7485] from the doorstep, laughing as if his heart would break. He was
[The Dead] [7487] collar and wore on his head an oval fur cap. He pointed down the
[The Dead] [7491] "Teddy will have all the cabs in Dublin out," he said.
[The Dead] [7532] "O, now, Gabriel," said Aunt Kate, laughing, "he had a starch
[The Dead] [7553] "O, now, Gabriel, he didn't live in Back Lane, really. Only the mill
[The Dead] [7556] "Out from the mansion of his forefathers," continued Gabriel, "he
[The Dead] [7558] Johnny came in sight of King Billy's statue: and whether he fell in
[The Dead] [7559] love with the horse King Billy sits on or whether he thought he
[The Dead] [7560] was back again in the mill, anyhow he began to walk round the
[The Dead] [7566] "Round and round he went," said Gabriel, "and the old gentleman,
[The Dead] [7577] "I could only get one cab," he said.
[The Dead] [7597] contradictions and abundance of laughter. As for Freddy Malins he
[The Dead] [7598] was speechless with laughter. He popped his head in and out of the
[The Dead] [7621] Gabriel had not gone to the door with the others. He was in a dark
[The Dead] [7623] near the top of the first flight, in the shadow also. He could not see
[The Dead] [7624] her face but he could see the terra-cotta and salmon-pink panels of
[The Dead] [7628] also. But he could hear little save the noise of laughter and dispute
[The Dead] [7632] He stood still in the gloom of the hall, trying to catch the air that
[The Dead] [7635] He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the
[The Dead] [7636] shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a
[The Dead] [7637] painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would
[The Dead] [7639] panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he
[The Dead] [7640] would call the picture if he were a painter.
[The Dead] [7660] "O," exclaimed Mary Jane. "It's Bartell D'Arcy singing and he
[The Dead] [7661] wouldn't sing all the night. O, I'll get him to sing a song before he
[The Dead] [7670] "O, what a pity!" she cried. "Is he coming down, Gretta?"
[The Dead] [7680] Mrs. Conroy, too, and he told us he had a dreadful cold and
[The Dead] [7688] He went into the pantry hastily and put on his overcoat. The others,
[The Dead] [7716] hair, which he had seen her drying at the fire a few days before.
[The Dead] [7775] She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he
[The Dead] [7778] him so frail that he longed to defend her against something and
[The Dead] [7781] beside his breakfast-cup and he was caressing it with his hand.
[The Dead] [7783] was shimmering along the floor: he could not eat for happiness.
[The Dead] [7784] They were standing on the crowded platform and he was placing a
[The Dead] [7785] ticket inside the warm palm of her glove. He was standing with her
[The Dead] [7788] the cold air, was quite close to his; and suddenly he called out to
[The Dead] [7794] just as well. He might have answered rudely.
[The Dead] [7799] ever know of, broke upon and illumined his memory. He longed to
[The Dead] [7802] ecstasy. For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul or hers.
[The Dead] [7804] all their souls' tender fire. In one letter that he had written to her
[The Dead] [7805] then he had said: "Why is it that words like these seem to me so
[The Dead] [7809] Like distant music these words that he had written years before
[The Dead] [7810] were borne towards him from the past. He longed to be alone with
[The Dead] [7811] her. When the others had gone away, when he and she were in the
[The Dead] [7812] room in the hotel, then they would be alone together. He would
[The Dead] [7821] At the corner of Winetavern Street they met a cab. He was glad of
[The Dead] [7839] he nodded familiarly to it and waved his hand.
[The Dead] [7841] "Good-night, Dan," he said gaily.
[The Dead] [7844] spite of Mr. Bartell D'Arcy's protest, paid the driver. He gave the
[The Dead] [7854] with him a few hours before. He had felt proud and happy then,
[The Dead] [7858] keen pang of lust. Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm
[The Dead] [7859] closely to his side; and, as they stood at the hotel door, he felt that
[The Dead] [7864] An old man was dozing in a great hooded chair in the hall. He lit a
[The Dead] [7869] burden, her skirt girt tightly about her. He could have flung his
[The Dead] [7878] The porter led them along a corridor and opened a door. Then he
[The Dead] [7888] And I say," he added, pointing to the candle, "you might remove
[The Dead] [7891] The porter took up his candle again, but slowly, for he was
[The Dead] [7892] surprised by such a novel idea. Then he mumbled good-night and
[The Dead] [7897] and crossed the room towards the window. He looked down into
[The Dead] [7898] the street in order that his emotion might calm a little. Then he
[The Dead] [7911] "You looked tired," he said.
[The Dead] [7921] conquer him, he said abruptly:
[The Dead] [7927] "You know that poor fellow Malins?" he said quickly.
[The Dead] [7932] Gabriel in a false voice. "He gave me back that sovereign I lent
[The Dead] [7933] him, and I didn't expect it, really. It's a pity he wouldn't keep away
[The Dead] [7936] He was trembling now with annoyance. Why did she seem so
[The Dead] [7937] abstracted? He did not know how he could begin. Was she
[The Dead] [7940] brutal. No, he must see some ardour in her eyes first. He longed to
[The Dead] [7946] language about the sottish Malins and his pound. He longed to cry
[The Dead] [7948] her. But he said:
[The Dead] [7950] "O, at Christmas, when he opened that little Christmas-card shop
[The Dead] [7953] He was in such a fever of rage and desire that he did not hear her
[The Dead] [7964] over with happiness. Just when he was wishing for it she had come
[The Dead] [7968] had fallen to him so easily, he wondered why he had been so
[The Dead] [7971] He stood, holding her head between his hands. Then, slipping one
[The Dead] [7972] arm swiftly about her body and drawing her towards him, he said
[The Dead] [7977] She did not answer nor yield wholly to his arm. He said again,
[The Dead] [7989] moment in astonishment and then followed her. As he passed in
[The Dead] [7990] the way of the cheval-glass he caught sight of himself in full
[The Dead] [7992] always puzzled him when he saw it in a mirror, and his
[The Dead] [7993] glimmering gilt-rimmed eyeglasses. He halted a few paces from
[The Dead] [7999] back of her hand like a child. A kinder note than he had intended
[The Dead] [8002] "Why, Gretta?" he asked.
[The Dead] [8016] "Someone you were in love with?" he asked ironically.
[The Dead] [8019] Michael Furey.