Dubliners by James Joyce
was

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 1161 occurrences of the word:   was

[The Sisters] [3] THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke.
[The Sisters] [4] Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and
[The Sisters] [6] found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was
[The Sisters] [18] Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came
[The Sisters] [19] downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout
[The Sisters] [22] "No, I wouldn't say he was exactly... but there was something
[The Sisters] [23] queer... there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you my
[The Sisters] [31] "I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of
[The Sisters] [45] "Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house."
[The Sisters] [47] I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the
[The Sisters] [71] take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life
[The Sisters] [90] It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter
[The Sisters] [101] paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly as if to absolve the
[The Sisters] [105] house in Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop,
[The Sisters] [109] Umbrellas Re-covered . No notice was visible now for the shutters
[The Sisters] [110] were up. A crape bouquet was tied to the doorknocker with ribbon.
[The Sisters] [119] The reading of the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was
[The Sisters] [125] stupefied doze. It was always I who emptied the packet into his
[The Sisters] [132] blackened, as it always was, with the snuff-stains of a week, with
[The Sisters] [133] which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite
[The Sisters] [156] found in himself the courage to undertake them; and I was not
[The Sisters] [179] mourning. It was after sunset; but the window-panes of the houses
[The Sisters] [191] I went in on tiptoe. The room through the lace end of the blind was
[The Sisters] [196] mutterings distracted me. I noticed how clumsily her skirt was
[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] [204] was very truculent, grey and massive, with black cavernous
[The Sisters] [205] nostrils and circled by a scanty white fur. There was a heavy odour
[The Sisters] [236] "Father O'Rourke was in with him a Tuesday and anointed him and
[The Sisters] [241] "He was quite resigned."
[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] [270] know what we'd done at all. It was him brought us all them flowers
[The Sisters] [286] "Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You
[The Sisters] [299] "Mind you, I noticed there was something queer coming over him
[The Sisters] [306] "But still and all he kept on saying that before the summer was
[The Sisters] [322] "He was too scrupulous always," she said. "The duties of the
[The Sisters] [323] priesthood was too much for him. And then his life was, you might
[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] [336] course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean.
[The Sisters] [337] But still.... They say it was the boy's fault. But poor James was so
[The Sisters] [340] "And was that it?" said my aunt. "I heard something...."
[The Sisters] [346] night he was wanted for to go on a call and they couldn't find him
[The Sisters] [350] and the clerk and Father O'Rourke and another priest that was
[The Sisters] [352] think but there he was, sitting up by himself in the dark in his
[The Sisters] [355] She stopped suddenly as if to listen. I too listened; but there was
[The Sisters] [356] no sound in the house: and I knew that the old priest was lying still
[The Sisters] [363] when they saw that, that made them think that there was something
[An Encounter] [368] IT WAS Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West to us. He had a
[An Encounter] [377] the peaceful odour of Mrs. Dillon was prevalent in the hall of the
[An Encounter] [385] Everyone was incredulous when it was reported that he had a
[An Encounter] [386] vocation for the priesthood. Nevertheless it was true.
[An Encounter] [393] I was one. The adventures related in the literature of the Wild
[An Encounter] [397] girls. Though there was nothing wrong in these stories and though
[An Encounter] [398] their intention was sometimes literary they were circulated secretly
[An Encounter] [399] at school. One day when Father Butler was hearing the four pages
[An Encounter] [400] of Roman History clumsy Leo Dillon was discovered with a copy
[An Encounter] [414] it, I suppose, was some wretched fellow who writes these things
[An Encounter] [422] influence of the school was at a distance I began to hunger again
[An Encounter] [434] the morning on the Canal Bridge. Mahony's big sister was to write
[An Encounter] [435] an excuse for him and Leo Dillon was to tell his brother to say he
[An Encounter] [436] was sick. We arranged to go along the Wharf Road until we came
[An Encounter] [438] Pigeon House. Leo Dillon was afraid we might meet Father Butler
[An Encounter] [449] That night I slept badly. In the morning I was firstcomer to the
[An Encounter] [452] hurried along the canal bank. It was a mild sunny morning in the
[An Encounter] [458] through them on to the water. The granite stone of the bridge was
[An Encounter] [460] to an air in my head. I was very happy.
[An Encounter] [470] hour more but still there was no sign of Leo Dillon. Mahony, at
[An Encounter] [488] Protestants because Mahony, who was dark-complexioned, wore
[An Encounter] [490] Smoothing Iron we arranged a siege; but it was a failure because
[An Encounter] [492] by saying what a funk he was and guessing how many he would
[An Encounter] [498] immobility by the drivers of groaning carts. It was noon when we
[An Encounter] [504] fleet beyond Ringsend, the big white sailingvessel which was
[An Encounter] [517] observed from the other quay. Some bystander said that she was a
[An Encounter] [523] was a tall man who amused the crowd on the quay by calling out
[An Encounter] [540] It was too late and we were too tired to carry out our project of
[An Encounter] [548] There was nobody but ourselves in the field. When we had lain on
[An Encounter] [554] He was shabbily dressed in a suit of greenish-black and wore what
[An Encounter] [556] fairly old for his moustache was ashen-grey. When he passed at
[An Encounter] [561] ground with his stick, so slowly that I thought he was looking for
[An Encounter] [568] changed gready since he was a boy--a long time ago. He said that
[An Encounter] [569] the happiest time of one's life was undoubtedly one's schoolboy
[An Encounter] [578] pointing to Mahony who was regarding us with open eyes, "he is
[An Encounter] [585] which agitated and pained me because I was afraid the man would
[An Encounter] [586] think I was as stupid as Mahony. The man, however, only smiled. I
[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] [603] sweethearts was reasonable. But I disliked the words in his mouth
[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] [611] gave me the impression that he was repeating something which he
[An Encounter] [613] speech, his mind was slowly circling round and round in the same
[An Encounter] [639] We said nothing further to each other. I was still considering
[An Encounter] [648] After an interval the man spoke to me. He said that my friend was
[An Encounter] [650] was going to reply indignantly that we were not National School
[An Encounter] [655] ought to be whipped and well whipped. When a boy was rough and
[An Encounter] [656] unruly there was nothing would do him any good but a good sound
[An Encounter] [657] whipping. A slap on the hand or a box on the ear was no good:
[An Encounter] [658] what he wanted was to get a nice warm whipping. I was surprised
[An Encounter] [669] that there was nothing in this world he would like so well as that.
[An Encounter] [678] pretending to fix my shoe properly and then, saying that I was
[An Encounter] [680] my heart was beating quickly with fear that he would seize me by
[An Encounter] [686] My voice had an accent of forced bravery in it and I was ashamed
[An Encounter] [690] And I was penitent; for in my heart I had always despised him a
[Araby] [695] NORTH RICHMOND STREET being blind, was a quiet street
[Araby] [704] in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was
[Araby] [717] sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of
[Araby] [727] kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning
[Araby] [733] Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure
[Araby] [740] door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so
[Araby] [747] was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
[Araby] [765] was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers
[Araby] [769] had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the
[Araby] [773] me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed
[Araby] [774] to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip
[Araby] [779] I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked
[Araby] [780] me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It
[Araby] [788] fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings. She held one
[Araby] [806] to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped
[Araby] [807] it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in
[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] [822] towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart
[Araby] [826] Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and. when
[Araby] [840] fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who
[Araby] [842] gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour
[Araby] [844] was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight
[Araby] [845] o'clock and she did not like to be out late as the night air was bad
[Araby] [854] When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me
[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] [868] his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the
[Araby] [879] saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in
[Araby] [882] by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front
[Araby] [883] of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.
[Araby] [889] closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognised
[Araby] [899] the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with
[Araby] [916] to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she
[Araby] [928] I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to
[Araby] [932] voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The
[Araby] [933] upper part of the hall was now completely dark.
[Eveline] [941] Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her
[Eveline] [942] nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.
[Eveline] [953] and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was
[Eveline] [957] have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and
[Eveline] [958] besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and
[Eveline] [959] her brothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead.
[Eveline] [960] Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to
[Eveline] [961] England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like
[Eveline] [978] She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise?
[Eveline] [984] was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by
[Eveline] [997] mother had been. Even now, though she was over nineteen, she
[Eveline] [999] it was that that had given her the palpitations. When they were
[Eveline] [1001] and Ernest, because she was a girl but latterly he had begun to
[Eveline] [1003] mother's sake. And no she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was
[Eveline] [1004] dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was
[Eveline] [1009] was to get any money from her father. He said she used to
[Eveline] [1012] much more, for he was usually fairly bad on Saturday night. In the
[Eveline] [1020] and got their meals regularly. It was hard work--a hard life--but
[Eveline] [1021] now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly
[Eveline] [1024] She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very
[Eveline] [1025] kind, manly, open-hearted. She was to go away with him by the
[Eveline] [1028] the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the
[Eveline] [1030] was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head
[Eveline] [1035] theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little.
[Eveline] [1056] her lap grew indistinct. One was to Harry; the other was to her
[Eveline] [1058] father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her.
[Eveline] [1061] toast for her at the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive,
[Eveline] [1066] Her time was running out but she continued to sit by the window,
[Eveline] [1072] the last night of her mother's illness; she was again in the close
[Eveline] [1094] Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her,
[Eveline] [1096] station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide
[Eveline] [1101] was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist.
[Eveline] [1112] All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing
[Eveline] [1118] No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in
[Eveline] [1123] He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was
[After the Race] [1136] Their sympathy, however, was for the blue cars--the cars of their
[After the Race] [1141] driver of the winning German car was reported a Belgian. Each
[After the Race] [1143] topped the crest of the hill and each cheer of welcome was
[After the Race] [1145] these trimly built cars was a party of four young men whose spirits
[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] [1156] success of the French cars. Villona was in good humour because
[After the Race] [1157] he had had a very satisfactory luncheon; and besides he was an
[After the Race] [1158] optimist by nature. The fourth member of the party, however, was
[After the Race] [1161] He was about twenty-six years of age, with a soft, light brown
[After the Race] [1172] took to bad courses for a while. He had money and he was popular;
[After the Race] [1176] excess, had paid his bills and brought him home. It was at
[After the Race] [1179] society of one who had seen so much of the world and was reputed
[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] [1190] Jimmy had to strain forward to catch the quick phrase. This was
[After the Race] [1202] driver had disclosed a line of shining white teeth. It was pleasant
[After the Race] [1206] great sum but Jimmy who, in spite of temporary errors, was at
[After the Race] [1212] much more so now when he was about to stake the greater part of
[After the Race] [1213] his substance! It was a serious thing for him.
[After the Race] [1215] Of course, the investment was a good one and Segouin had
[After the Race] [1216] managed to give the impression that it was by a favour of
[After the Race] [1217] friendship the mite of Irish money was to be included in the capital
[After the Race] [1229] They drove down Dame Street. The street was busy with unusual
[After the Race] [1233] pay homage to the snorting motor. The party was to dine together
[After the Race] [1235] friend, who was staying with him, were to go home to dress. The
[After the Race] [1246] well when he was dressed and, as he stood in the hall giving a last
[After the Race] [1249] unpurchaseable. His father, therefore, was unusually friendly with
[After the Race] [1251] accomplishments; but this subtlety of his host was probably lost
[After the Race] [1252] upon the Hungarian, who was beginning to have a sharp desire for
[After the Race] [1255] The dinner was excellent, exquisite. Segouin, Jimmy decided, had
[After the Race] [1256] a very refined taste. The party was increased by a young
[After the Race] [1260] whose imagination was kindling, conceived the lively youth of the
[After the Race] [1270] Hungarian was about to prevail in ridicule of the spurious lutes of
[After the Race] [1272] politics. Here was congenial ground for all. Jimmy, under generous
[After the Race] [1275] hot and Segouin's task grew harder each moment: there was even
[After the Race] [1284] Grafton Street a short fat man was putting two handsome ladies on
[After the Race] [1292] A torrent of talk followed. Farley was an American. No one knew
[After the Race] [1293] very well what the talk was about. Villona and Riviere were the
[After the Race] [1299] Station. The ticket-collector saluted Jimmy; he was an old man:
[After the Race] [1303] It was a serene summer night; the harbour lay like a darkened
[After the Race] [1310] American's yacht. There was to be supper, music, cards. Villona
[After the Race] [1315] There was a yacht piano in the cabin. Villona played a waltz for
[After the Race] [1318] figures. What merriment! Jimmy took his part with a will; this was
[After the Race] [1321] for form's sake. They drank, however: it was Bohemian. They
[After the Race] [1324] "Hear! hear!" whenever there was a pause. There was a great
[After the Race] [1329] Cards! cards! The table was cleared. Villona returned quietly to his
[After the Race] [1334] was flashing. Play ran very high and paper began to pass. Jimmy
[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] [1342] The piano had stopped; Villona must have gone up on deck. It was
[After the Race] [1345] Segouin. What excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose,
[After the Race] [1352] He knew that he would regret in the morning but at present he was
[Two Gallants] [1372] them was just bringing a long monologue to a close. The other,
[Two Gallants] [1373] who walked on the verge of the path and was at times obliged to
[Two Gallants] [1375] amused listening face. He was squat and ruddy. A yachting cap
[Two Gallants] [1376] was shoved far back from his forehead and the narrative to which
[Two Gallants] [1385] fell into rotundity at the waist, his hair was scant and grey and his
[Two Gallants] [1389] When he was quite sure that the narrative had ended he laughed
[Two Gallants] [1401] was tired for he had been talking all the afternoon in a
[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] [1417] "One night, man," he said, "I was going along Dame Street and I
[Two Gallants] [1420] me she was a slavey in a house in Baggot Street. I put my arm
[Two Gallants] [1424] dairyman.... It was fine, man. Cigarettes every night she'd bring me
[Two Gallants] [1427] fellow used to smoke.... I was afraid, man, she'd get in the family
[Two Gallants] [1432] "I told her I was out of a job," said Corley. "I told her I was in
[Two Gallants] [1433] Pim's. She doesn't know my name. I was too hairy to tell her that.
[Two Gallants] [1443] to the roadway and back again. Corley was the son of an inspector
[Two Gallants] [1446] swaying his head from side to side. His head was large, globular
[Two Gallants] [1451] was necessary for him to move his body from the hips. At present
[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] [1455] knew the inner side of all affairs and was fond of delivering final
[Two Gallants] [1457] companions. His conversation was mainly about himself what he
[Two Gallants] [1465] at some of the passing girls but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the
[Two Gallants] [1498] convincing tone, as if he was conscious of being disbelieved.
[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] [1523] "There was others at her before me," said Corley philosophically.
[Two Gallants] [1525] This time Lenehan was inclined to disbelieve. He shook his head
[Two Gallants] [1561] temper, to be sent to the devil and told that his advice was not
[Two Gallants] [1562] wanted. A little tact was necessary. But Corley's brow was soon
[Two Gallants] [1586] At the corner of Hume Street a young woman was standing. She
[Two Gallants] [1631] blue serge skirt was held at the waist by a belt of black leather.
[Two Gallants] [1636] carefully disordered and a big bunch of red flowers was pinned in
[Two Gallants] [1657] Now that he was alone his face looked older. His gaiety seemed to
[Two Gallants] [1667] that was meant to charm him and did not answer the glances which
[Two Gallants] [1678] Ginger Beer and Ginger Ale. A cut ham was exposed on a great
[Two Gallants] [1684] He was hungry for, except some biscuits which he had asked two
[Two Gallants] [1697] had been followed by a pause of talk. His face was heated. To
[Two Gallants] [1709] him feel keenly his own poverty of purse and spirit. He was tired
[Two Gallants] [1727] and stopped to converse with them. He was glad that he could rest
[Two Gallants] [1729] what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day with
[Two Gallants] [1735] Westmoreland Street asked was it true that Mac had won a bit over
[Two Gallants] [1744] of Surgeons: it was on the stroke of ten. He set off briskly along
[Two Gallants] [1756] Corley's slowly revolving head calmed him somewhat: he was sure
[Two Gallants] [1759] him the slip. His eyes searched the street: there was no sign of
[Two Gallants] [1760] them. Yet it was surely half-an-hour since he had seen the clock of
[Two Gallants] [1773] would fail; he knew it was no go.
[Two Gallants] [1780] minutes passed. Then the hall-door was opened slowly and
[Two Gallants] [1789] house which the young woman had entered to see that he was not
[Two Gallants] [1809] breathing uneasily. He was baffled and a note of menace pierced
[The Boarding House] [1821] MRS. MOONEY was a butcher's daughter. She was a woman who
[The Boarding House] [1822] was quite able to keep things to herself: a determined woman. She
[The Boarding House] [1824] Spring Gardens. But as soon as his father-in-law was dead Mr.
[The Boarding House] [1826] headlong into debt. It was no use making him take the pledge: he
[The Boarding House] [1827] was sure to break out again a few days after. By fighting his wife
[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] [1841] Street, was a big imposing woman. Her house had a floating
[The Boarding House] [1844] population was made up of clerks from the city. She governed the
[The Boarding House] [1855] son, who was clerk to a commission agent in Fleet Street, had the
[The Boarding House] [1856] reputation of being a hard case. He was fond of using soldiers'
[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] [1871] Polly was a slim girl of nineteen; she had light soft hair and a
[The Boarding House] [1879] set her to do housework. As Polly was very lively the intention was
[The Boarding House] [1882] course, flirted with the young men but Mrs. Mooney, who was a
[The Boarding House] [1886] typewriting when she noticed that something was going on
[The Boarding House] [1890] Polly knew that she was being watched, but still her mother's
[The Boarding House] [1895] little strange in her manner and the young man was evidently
[The Boarding House] [1900] It was a bright Sunday morning of early summer, promising heat,
[The Boarding House] [1907] volumes in their gloved hands. Breakfast was over in the boarding
[The Boarding House] [1908] house and the table of the breakfast-room was covered with plates
[The Boarding House] [1913] Tuesday's bread- pudding. When the table was cleared, the broken
[The Boarding House] [1928] that the bells of George's Church had stopped ringing. It was
[The Boarding House] [1931] Marlborough Street. She was sure she would win. To begin with
[The Boarding House] [1932] she had all the weight of social opinion on her side: she was an
[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] [1939] inexperience: that was evident. The question was: What reparation
[The Boarding House] [1952] would win. He was a serious young man, not rakish or loud-voiced
[The Boarding House] [1968] Mr. Doran was very anxious indeed this Sunday morning. He had
[The Boarding House] [1974] night before was a cause of acute pain to him; the priest had drawn
[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] [1988] existence of God to his companions in public- houses. But that was
[The Boarding House] [1992] money enough to settle down on; it was not that. But the family
[The Boarding House] [1993] would look down on her. First of all there was her disreputable
[The Boarding House] [1994] father and then her mother's boarding house was beginning to get a
[The Boarding House] [1995] certain fame. He had a notion that he was being had. He could
[The Boarding House] [1996] imagine his friends talking of the affair and laughing. She was a
[The Boarding House] [2004] While he was sitting helplessly on the side of the bed in shirt and
[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] [2023] had been blown out by a gust. It was her bath night. She wore a
[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] [2032] If the night was anyway cold or wet or windy there was sure to be
[The Boarding House] [2043] back. But the sin was there; even his sense of honour told him that
[The Boarding House] [2046] While he was sitting with her on the side of the bed Mary came to
[The Boarding House] [2049] ever. When he was dressed he went over to her to comfort her. It
[The Boarding House] [2059] of stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming up from the
[The Boarding House] [2070] little paler than usual, kept smiling and saying that there was no
[The Boarding House] [2083] into a reverie. There was no longer any perturbation visible on her
[The Boarding House] [2089] saw the white pillows on which her gaze was fixed or remembered
[The Boarding House] [2090] that she was waiting for anything.
[A Little Cloud] [2109] remain unspoiled by such success. Gallaher's heart was in the right
[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] [2118] small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manners
[A Little Cloud] [2136] He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being
[A Little Cloud] [2150] swiftly down Henrietta Street. The golden sunset was waning and
[A Little Cloud] [2158] was full of a present joy.
[A Little Cloud] [2168] always passed without turning his head to look. It was his habit to
[A Little Cloud] [2173] as he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread about his
[A Little Cloud] [2182] to say that Ignatius Gallaher was wild Of course, he did mix with a
[A Little Cloud] [2185] affair, some money transaction: at least, that was one version of his
[A Little Cloud] [2186] flight. But nobody denied him talent. There was always a certain...
[A Little Cloud] [2188] yourself. Even when he was out at elbows and at his wits' end for
[A Little Cloud] [2191] of Ignatius Gallaher's sayings when he was in a tight corner:
[A Little Cloud] [2196] That was Ignatius Gallaher all out; and, damn it, you couldn't but
[A Little Cloud] [2202] was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go
[A Little Cloud] [2212] original? He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the
[A Little Cloud] [2218] mind. He was not so old--thirty-two. His temperament might be
[A Little Cloud] [2222] was a poet's soul. Melancholy was the dominant note of his
[A Little Cloud] [2223] temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by
[A Little Cloud] [2233] pervades these poems." ... "The Celtic note." It was a pity his name
[A Little Cloud] [2234] was not more Irish-looking. Perhaps it would be better to insert his
[A Little Cloud] [2245] moments. He looked about him, but his sight was confused by the
[A Little Cloud] [2251] enough, was Ignatius Gallaher leaning with his back against the
[A Little Cloud] [2264] cropped head. His face was heavy, pale and cleanshaven. His eyes,
[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] [2350] observed before. But perhaps it was only the result of living in
[A Little Cloud] [2352] personal charm was still there under this new gaudy manner. And,
[A Little Cloud] [2359] they've a great feeling for the Irish there. When they heard I was
[A Little Cloud] [2386] London when he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say,
[A Little Cloud] [2408] pictures of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised
[A Little Cloud] [2432] "Yes," he said. "I was married last May twelve months."
[A Little Cloud] [2503] his face a few moments before was establishing itself. A trifle
[A Little Cloud] [2506] cigar had confused his mind, for he was a delicate and abstinent
[A Little Cloud] [2512] life and his friend's and it seemed to him unjust. Gallaher was his
[A Little Cloud] [2513] inferior in birth and education. He was sure that he could do
[A Little Cloud] [2516] chance. What was it that stood in his way? His unfortunate timidity
[A Little Cloud] [2519] Gallaher was only patronising him by his friendliness just as he
[A Little Cloud] [2520] was patronising Ireland by his visit.
[A Little Cloud] [2547] He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had
[A Little Cloud] [2580] the evening to help. But Monica had gone home long ago. It was a
[A Little Cloud] [2583] coffee from Bewley's. Of course she was in a bad humour and gave
[A Little Cloud] [2593] light fell over a photograph which was enclosed in a frame of
[A Little Cloud] [2594] crumpled horn. It was Annie's photograph. Little Chandler looked
[A Little Cloud] [2599] at the shop door until the shop was empty, standing at the counter
[A Little Cloud] [2604] parcel to see if it was securely tied. When he brought the blouse
[A Little Cloud] [2605] home Annie kissed him and said it was very pretty and stylish; but
[A Little Cloud] [2607] it was a regular swindle to charge ten and elevenpence for it. At
[A Little Cloud] [2608] first she wanted to take it back but when she tried it on she was
[A Little Cloud] [2610] kissed him and said he was very good to think of her.
[A Little Cloud] [2615] answered coldly. Certainly they were pretty and the face itself was
[A Little Cloud] [2616] pretty. But he found something mean in it. Why was it so
[A Little Cloud] [2618] him. They repelled him and defied him: there was no passion in
[A Little Cloud] [2627] it herself and it reminded hi of her. It too was prim and pretty. A
[A Little Cloud] [2629] escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to try to live
[A Little Cloud] [2630] bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was the
[A Little Cloud] [2647] How melancholy it was! Could he, too, write like that, express the
[A Little Cloud] [2661] It was useless. He couldn't read. He couldn't do anything. The
[A Little Cloud] [2662] wailing of the child pierced the drum of his ear. It was useless,
[A Little Cloud] [2663] useless! He was a prisoner for life. His arms trembled with anger
[A Little Cloud] [2678] The door was burst open and a young woman ran in, panting.
[A Little Cloud] [2701] "My little man! My little mannie! Was 'ou frightened, love?...
[Counterparts] [2717] Miss Parker returned to her machine, saying to a man who was
[Counterparts] [2723] his chair to stand up. When he stood up he was tall and of great
[Counterparts] [2738] shot his head up over a pile of documents. The head itself was so
[Counterparts] [2771] was passed and, if he could get the copy done in time, Mr. Alleyne
[Counterparts] [2781] "I was waiting to see..."
[Counterparts] [2788] was not copied by evening Mr. Crosbie would hear of the matter.
[Counterparts] [2794] was falling and in a few minutes they would be lighting the gas:
[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] [2808] corner and all at once dived into a doorway. He was now safe in
[Counterparts] [2820] Darkness, accompanied by a thick fog, was gaining upon the dusk
[Counterparts] [2825] Delacour had come while he was out in O'Neill's. He crammed his
[Counterparts] [2843] sat down at his desk to get what was required, he realised how
[Counterparts] [2844] hopeless was the task of finishing his copy of the contract before
[Counterparts] [2845] half past five. The dark damp night was coming and he longed to
[Counterparts] [2852] room. Miss Delacour was a middle-aged woman of Jewish
[Counterparts] [2853] appearance. Mr. Alleyne was said to be sweet on her or on her
[Counterparts] [2855] she came. She was sitting beside his desk now in an aroma of
[Counterparts] [2867] the said Bernard Bodley be... and thought how strange it was that
[Counterparts] [2872] copy. But his head was not clear and his mind wandered away to
[Counterparts] [2873] the glare and rattle of the public-house. It was a night for hot
[Counterparts] [2877] something violently. He was so enraged that he wrote Bernard
[Counterparts] [2884] cashier privately for an advance? No, the cashier was no good, no
[Counterparts] [2887] The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot.
[Counterparts] [2889] His imagination had so abstracted him that his name was called
[Counterparts] [2895] he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitter
[Counterparts] [2907] and back again; and, almost before he was aware of it, his tongue
[Counterparts] [2912] There was a pause in the very breathing of the clerks. Everyone
[Counterparts] [2913] was astounded (the author of the witticism no less than his
[Counterparts] [2914] neighbours) and Miss Delacour, who was a stout amiable person,
[Counterparts] [2931] the cashier came out with the chief clerk. It was no use trying to
[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] [2952] than a bob--and a bob was no use. Yet he must get money
[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] [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] [2970] masterfully at the office-girls. His head was full of the noises of
[Counterparts] [2979] Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davy Byrne's
[Counterparts] [2981] saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood a
[Counterparts] [2983] came in and the story was repeated to them. O'Halloran stood
[Counterparts] [2985] made to the chief clerk when he was in Callan's of Fownes's Street;
[Counterparts] [2986] but, as the retort was after the manner of the liberal shepherds in
[Counterparts] [2987] the eclogues, he had to admit that it was not as clever as
[Counterparts] [2994] vivacity for the sight of five small hot whiskies was very
[Counterparts] [2997] imitated Farrington, saying, "And here was my nabs, as cool as you
[Counterparts] [3002] When that round was over there was a pause. O'Halloran had
[Counterparts] [3006] the other three turned back towards the city. Rain was drizzling
[Counterparts] [3008] Office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House. The bar was full of
[Counterparts] [3013] Weathers who was performing at the Tivoli as an acrobat and
[Counterparts] [3016] had definite notions of what was what, asked the boys would they
[Counterparts] [3020] hospitality was too Irish. He promised to get them in behind the
[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] [3032] mellow. Farrington was just standing another round when
[Counterparts] [3039] direction of one of the young women. There was something
[Counterparts] [3041] muslin was wound round her hat and knotted in a great bow under
[Counterparts] [3047] glanced at him once or twice and, when the party was leaving the
[Counterparts] [3050] would look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed his
[Counterparts] [3053] there was one thing that he hated it was a sponge. He was so angry
[Counterparts] [3057] about feats of strength. Weathers was showing his biceps muscle
[Counterparts] [3062] it was agreed to have a trial of strength. The table was cleared and
[Counterparts] [3064] Leonard said "Go!" each was to try to bring down the other's hand
[Counterparts] [3083] on to the table. There was a murmur of applause from the
[Counterparts] [3084] spectators. The curate, who was standing beside the table, nodded
[Counterparts] [3101] waiting for the little Sandymount tram to take him home. He was
[Counterparts] [3121] His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husband
[Counterparts] [3122] when he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk.
[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
[Clay] [3183] tea was over and Maria looked forward to her evening out. The
[Clay] [3184] kitchen was spick and span: the cook said you could see yourself
[Clay] [3185] in the big copper boilers. The fire was nice and bright and on one
[Clay] [3191] Maria was a very, very small person indeed but she had a very long
[Clay] [3193] always soothingly: "Yes, my dear," and "No, my dear." She was
[Clay] [3201] compliment. And Ginger Mooney was always saying what she
[Clay] [3203] for Maria. Everyone was so fond of Maria.
[Clay] [3210] the words A Present from Belfast. She was very fond of that purse
[Clay] [3216] wouldn't come in drunk. He was so different when he took any
[Clay] [3220] have felt herself in the way (though Joe's wife was ever so nice
[Clay] [3222] laundry. Joe was a good fellow. She had nursed him and Alphy
[Clay] [3234] gave the visitor one or two slips from her conservatory. There was
[Clay] [3235] one thing she didn't like and that was the tracts on the walks; but
[Clay] [3236] the matron was such a nice person to deal with, so genteel.
[Clay] [3238] When the cook told her everything was ready she went into the
[Clay] [3246] that every woman got her four slices. There was a great deal of
[Clay] [3248] was sure to get the ring and, though Fleming had said that for so
[Clay] [3254] with their mugs on the table, and said she was sorry she hadn't a
[Clay] [3263] morning was a mass morning, changed the hand of the alarm from
[Clay] [3268] dress for mass on Sunday morning when she was a young girl; and
[Clay] [3274] was glad of her old brown waterproof. The tram was full and she
[Clay] [3277] mind all she was going to do and thought how much better it was
[Clay] [3279] She hoped they would have a nice evening. She was sure they
[Clay] [3280] would but she could not help thinking what a pity it was Alphy and
[Clay] [3283] such was life.
[Clay] [3287] was so full of people that it was a long time before she could get
[Clay] [3291] They would be sure to have plenty of apples and nuts. It was hard
[Clay] [3292] to know what to buy and all she could think of was cake. She
[Clay] [3295] Henry Street. Here she was a long time in suiting herself and the
[Clay] [3296] stylish young lady behind the counter, who was evidently a little
[Clay] [3297] annoyed by her, asked her was it wedding-cake she wanted to buy.
[Clay] [3306] gentleman made room for her. He was a stout gentleman and he
[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] [3312] supposed the bag was full of good things for the little ones and
[Clay] [3313] said it was only right that the youngsters should enjoy themselves
[Clay] [3315] with demure nods and hems. He was very nice with her, and when
[Clay] [3316] she was getting out at the Canal Bridge she thanked him and
[Clay] [3318] agreeably, and while she was going up along the terrace, bending
[Clay] [3319] her tiny head under the rain, she thought how easy it was to know a
[Clay] [3323] Joe was there, having come home from business, and all the
[Clay] [3327] was too good of her to bring such a big bag of cakes and made all
[Clay] [3340] Mrs. Donnelly said it was plain that Maria had left it behind her in
[Clay] [3348] was very nice with her. He told her all that went on in his office,
[Clay] [3353] bad when you knew how to take him, that he was a decent sort so
[Clay] [3357] nutcrackers and Joe was nearly getting cross over it and asked how
[Clay] [3361] Donnelly said there was port wine too in the house if she would
[Clay] [3368] he spoke a word to his brother again and Maria said she was sorry
[Clay] [3370] was a great shame for him to speak that way of his own flesh and
[Clay] [3371] blood but Joe said that Alphy was no brother of his and there was
[Clay] [3373] lose his temper on account of the night it was and asked his wife to
[Clay] [3375] Hallow Eve games and soon everything was merry again. Maria
[Clay] [3376] was delighted to see the children so merry and Joe and his wife in
[Clay] [3388] her hand out in the air as she was told to do. She moved her hand
[Clay] [3390] saucers. She felt a soft wet substance with her fingers and was
[Clay] [3391] surprised that nobody spoke or took off her bandage. There was a
[Clay] [3395] next-door girls and told her to throw it out at once: that was no
[Clay] [3396] play. Maria understood that it was wrong that time and so she had
[Clay] [3402] convent before the year was out because she had got the
[Clay] [3403] prayer-book. Maria had never seen Joe so nice to her as he was
[Clay] [3420] That I was the hope and the pride.
[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] [3438] live as far as possible from the city of which he was a citizen and
[A Painful Case] [3448] white wood. The bed was clothed with white bedclothes and a
[A Painful Case] [3459] together by a brass pin. In these sheets a sentence was inscribed
[A Painful Case] [3468] face, which carried the entire tale of his years, was of the brown
[A Painful Case] [3472] character; but there was no harshness in the eyes which, looking at
[A Painful Case] [3486] he was set free. He dined in an eating-house in George's Street
[A Painful Case] [3488] and where there was a certain plain honesty in the bill of fare. His
[A Painful Case] [3511] He took the remark as an invitation to talk. He was surprised that
[A Painful Case] [3514] beside her was her daughter he judged her to be a year or so
[A Painful Case] [3516] had remained intelligent. It was an oval face with strongly marked
[A Painful Case] [3518] began with a defiant note but was confused by what seemed a
[A Painful Case] [3526] Terrace and seized the moments when her daughter's attention was
[A Painful Case] [3528] husband but her tone was not such as to make the allusion a
[A Painful Case] [3529] warning. Her name was Mrs. Sinico. Her husband's
[A Painful Case] [3530] great-great-grandfather had come from Leghorn. Her husband was
[A Painful Case] [3535] appointment. She came. This was the first of many meetings; they
[A Painful Case] [3540] encouraged his visits, thinking that his daughter's hand was in
[A Painful Case] [3543] interest in her. As the husband was often away and the daughter
[A Painful Case] [3546] adventure before and neither was conscious of any incongruity.
[A Painful Case] [3560] they took in the question of wages was inordinate. He felt that they
[A Painful Case] [3562] which was the produce of a leisure not within their reach. No
[A Painful Case] [3574] they spoke of subjects less remote. Her companionship was like a
[A Painful Case] [3586] these discourses was that one night during which she had shown
[A Painful Case] [3590] Mr. Duffy was very much surprised. Her interpretation of his
[A Painful Case] [3595] was cold autumn weather but in spite of the cold they wandered up
[A Painful Case] [3620] One evening as he was about to put a morsel of corned beef and
[A Painful Case] [3628] on his plate. The girl came over to him to ask was his dinner not
[A Painful Case] [3629] properly cooked. He said it was very good and ate a few mouthfuls
[A Painful Case] [3642] reads the prayers Secreto. This was the paragraph:
[A Painful Case] [3651] Emily Sinico, aged forty-three years, who was killed at Sydney
[A Painful Case] [3653] deceased lady, while attempting to cross the line, was knocked
[A Painful Case] [3662] was going slowly.
[A Painful Case] [3664] P. Dunne, railway porter, stated that as the train was about to start
[A Painful Case] [3666] her and shouted, but, before he could reach her, she was caught by
[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] [3706] was not at home until an hour after the accident. The jury returned
[A Painful Case] [3710] The Deputy Coroner said it was a most painful case, and expressed
[A Painful Case] [3735] reared. But that she could have sunk so low! Was it possible he
[A Painful Case] [3743] was now attacking his nerves. He put on his overcoat and hat
[A Painful Case] [3757] shop was very quiet. The proprietor sprawled on the counter
[A Painful Case] [3758] reading the Herald and yawning. Now and again a tram was heard
[A Painful Case] [3763] realised that she was dead, that she had ceased to exist, that she
[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] [3773] It was after nine o'clock when he left the shop. The night was cold
[A Painful Case] [3792] wished him gone. No one wanted him; he was outcast from life's
[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] [3812] When the dome was thinly covered his face lapsed into darkness
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3815] light. It was an old man's face, very bony and hairy. The moist blue
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3823] Mr. O'Connor, a grey-haired young man, whose face was
[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] [3855] part of the ward but, as the weather was inclement and his boots
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3859] dark. It was the sixth of October, dismal and cold out of doors.
[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] [3913] collar of his jacket-coat was turned up.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [3922] of an election address. In the middle of the room was a small table
[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] [3997] "Musha, God be with them times!" said the old man. "There was
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4000] The room was silent again. Then a bustling little man with a
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4081] man said anything, but, just as the door was closing, Mr. O'Connor,
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4105] "His father was a decent, respectable man," Mr. Henchy admitted.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4140] There was a knock at the door.
[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] [4148] the uncovered buttons of which reflected the candlelight, was
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4171] "No, no, thank you. It was just a little business matter," said Father
[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] [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] [4230] little matter I was speaking to you about....' 'That'll be all right, Mr.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4258] than some of them. I was talking one day to old Keegan, the porter.
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4272] At this point there was a knock at the door, and a boy put in his
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4290] "I was told to ask for the bottles."
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4315] bottles and was handing back the corkscrew when Mr. Henchy said
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4355] Here two men entered the room. One of them was a very fat man
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4359] other man, who was much younger and frailer, had a thin,
[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] [4404] In a few minutes an apologetic "Pok!" was heard as the cork flew
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4408] "I was just telling them, Crofton," said Mr. Henchy, that we got a
[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] [4465] he did Parnell was a fit man to lead us? And why, then, would we
[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] [4582] recitation there was a silence and then a burst of clapping: even
[Ivy Day in the Committee Room] [4596] Crofton said that it was a very fine piece of writing.
[A Mother] [4606] the end it was Mrs. Kearney who arranged everything.
[A Mother] [4610] and music. As she was naturally pale and unbending in manner she
[A Mother] [4612] she was sent out to many houses, where her playing and ivory
[A Mother] [4620] marrying Mr. Kearney, who was a bootmaker on Ormond Quay.
[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] [4628] But she never weakened in her religion and was a good wife to
[A Mother] [4632] strong rum punch. For his part, he was a model father. By paying a
[A Mother] [4642] If it was not Skerries it was Howth or Greystones.
[A Mother] [4656] often on people's lips. People said that she was very clever at
[A Mother] [4657] music and a very nice girl and, moreover, that she was a believer
[A Mother] [4658] in the language movement. Mrs. Kearney was well content at this.
[A Mother] [4659] Therefore she was not surprised when one day Mr. Holohan came
[A Mother] [4661] a series of four grand concerts which his Society was going to give
[A Mother] [4666] contract was drawn up by which Kathleen was to receive eight
[A Mother] [4669] As Mr. Holohan was a novice in such delicate matters as the
[A Mother] [4677] point. She was invariably friendly and advising--homely, in fact.
[A Mother] [4682] And while he was helping himself she said:
[A Mother] [4692] nothing, and, thanks to her, everything that was to be done was
[A Mother] [4703] was twenty minutes to eight.
[A Mother] [4705] In the dressing-room behind the stage she was introduced to the
[A Mother] [4707] hand. He was a little man, with a white, vacant face. She noticed
[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] [4715] their music. When it was nearly half-past eight, the few people in
[A Mother] [4730] arranging for four concerts: four was too many.
[A Mother] [4741] expense for such a concert. There was something she didn't like in
[A Mother] [4747] The concert on Thursday night was better attended, but Mrs.
[A Mother] [4748] Kearney saw at once that the house was filled with paper. The
[A Mother] [4750] dress rehearsal. Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to enjoy himself; he was
[A Mother] [4751] quite unconscious that Mrs. Kearney was taking angry note of his
[A Mother] [4755] learned that the Friday concert was to be abandoned and that the
[A Mother] [4756] committee was going to move heaven and earth to secure a
[A Mother] [4758] out Mr. Holohan. She buttonholed him as he was limping out
[A Mother] [4760] was it true. Yes. it was true.
[A Mother] [4763] contract was for four concerts."
[A Mother] [4766] Mr. Fitzpatrick. Mrs. Kearney was now beginning to be alarmed.
[A Mother] [4779] But she knew that it would not be ladylike to do that: so she was
[A Mother] [4785] public of the treat which was in store for it on the following
[A Mother] [4786] evening. Mrs. Kearney was somewhat reassured, but be thought
[A Mother] [4793] She was glad that he had suggested coming with her. She thought
[A Mother] [4798] three-quarters of an hour before the time at which the concert was
[A Mother] [4799] to begin. By ill luck it was a rainy evening. Mrs. Kearney placed
[A Mother] [4802] Fitzpatrick. She could find neither. She asked the stewards was any
[A Mother] [4808] oldish face which was screwed into an expression of trustfulness
[A Mother] [4823] already come. The bass, Mr. Duggan, was a slender young man
[A Mother] [4824] with a scattered black moustache. He was the son of a hall porter
[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] [4836] Bell, the second tenor, was a fair-haired little man who competed
[A Mother] [4838] been awarded a bronze medal. He was extremely nervous and
[A Mother] [4840] jealousy with an ebullient friendliness. It was his humour to have
[A Mother] [4841] people know what an ordeal a concert was to him. Therefore when
[A Mother] [4855] back and spoke to her husband privately. Their conversation was
[A Mother] [4860] blue dress which was stretched upon a meagre body. Someone said
[A Mother] [4861] that she was Madam Glynn, the soprano.
[A Mother] [4868] who was the unknown woman. Mr. Holohan said that she was
[A Mother] [4887] asked him when was her daughter going to be paid. Mr. Holohan
[A Mother] [4905] suffused. The room was lively. Two men in outdoor dress had
[A Mother] [4910] an American priest was giving in the Mansion House. He said they
[A Mother] [4912] would see that it went in. He was a grey-haired man, with a
[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] [4937] was uncorking bottles for a few gentlemen. One of these
[A Mother] [4938] gentlemen was Mr. O'Madden Burke, who had found out the room
[A Mother] [4939] by instinct. He was a suave, elderly man who balanced his
[A Mother] [4941] magniloquent western name was the moral umbrella upon which
[A Mother] [4942] he balanced the fine problem of his finances. He was widely
[A Mother] [4945] While Mr. Holohan was entertaining the Freeman man Mrs.
[A Mother] [4946] Kearney was speaking so animatedly to her husband that he had to
[A Mother] [4950] something was wrong. Mr. Kearney looked straight before him,
[A Mother] [4955] Mr. Bell's nerves were greatly agitated because he was afraid the
[A Mother] [4968] audience was clapping and stamping. He appealed to Mr Kearney
[A Mother] [4971] was not her fault. Mrs. Kearney repeated:
[A Mother] [4976] The room was silent. When the strain of the silence had become
[A Mother] [4981] The baritone had not seen her but he had been told that she was
[A Mother] [4983] his head and began to count the links of the gold chain which was
[A Mother] [4989] Fitzpatrick burst into the room, followed by Mr. Holohan who was
[A Mother] [4998] the first item, who was shaking like an aspen. The singer and the
[A Mother] [5000] was a pause of a few seconds: and then the piano was heard.
[A Mother] [5002] The first part of the concert was very successful except for Madam
[A Mother] [5009] house. Kathleen played a selection of Irish airs which was
[A Mother] [5012] theatricals. It was deservedly applauded; and, when it was ended,
[A Mother] [5015] All this time the dressing-room was a hive of excitement. In one
[A Mother] [5018] O'Madden Burke said it was the most scandalous exhibition he had
[A Mother] [5019] ever witnessed. Miss Kathleen Kearney's musical career was ended
[A Mother] [5020] in Dublin after that, he said. The baritone was asked what did he
[A Mother] [5034] this was how she was repaid.
[A Mother] [5041] farthing she would make Dublin ring. Of course she was sorry for
[A Mother] [5045] join the other group but she did not like to do so because she was a
[A Mother] [5049] As soon as the first part was ended Mr. Fitzpatrick and Mr.
[A Mother] [5065] Her face was inundated with an angry colour and she looked as if
[A Mother] [5083] After that Mrs. Kearney's conduct was condemned on all hands:
[A Mother] [5086] daughter, gesticulating with them. She waited until it was time for
[Grace] [5117] lift him up: but he was quite helpless. He lay curled up at the foot
[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] [5134] "No, sir. There was two gentlemen with him."
[Grace] [5147] His collar was unfastened and his necktie undone. He opened eyes
[Grace] [5151] man was or where had his friends gone. The door of the bar
[Grace] [5172] brandy was forced down the man's throat. In a few seconds he
[Grace] [5180] He was helped to his feet. The manager said something about a
[Grace] [5182] hat was placed on the man's head. The constable asked:
[Grace] [5187] moustache. He made light of his accident. It was nothing, he said:
[Grace] [5192] The man said they were to get a cab for him. While the point was
[Grace] [5245] They shook hands. Mr. Kernan was hoisted on to the car and,
[Grace] [5246] while Mr. Power was giving directions to the carman, he expressed
[Grace] [5254] hit them, blowing from the mouth of the river. Mr. Kernan was
[Grace] [5269] match was blown out.
[Grace] [5276] Mr. Kernan was a commercial traveller of the old school which
[Grace] [5284] which was written the name of his firm with the address--London,
[Grace] [5286] battalion of canisters was drawn up and on the table before the
[Grace] [5292] Mr. Power, a much younger man, was employed in the Royal Irish
[Grace] [5295] was mitigated by the fact that certain of those friends who had
[Grace] [5297] character. Mr. Power was one of these friends. His inexplicable
[Grace] [5298] debts were a byword in his circle; he was a debonair young man.
[Grace] [5301] Kernan was helped into the house. His wife put him to bed while
[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] [5322] and family. Nice friends! Who was he with tonight, I'd like to
[Grace] [5340] She saw him to the door. The carman was stamping up and down
[Grace] [5357] Mrs. Kernan's puzzled eyes watched the car till it was out of sight.
[Grace] [5361] She was an active, practical woman of middle age. Not long before
[Grace] [5366] door whenever a wedding was reported and, seeing the bridal pair,
[Grace] [5369] well-fed man, who was dressed smartly in a frock-coat and
[Grace] [5372] irksome and, later on, when she was beginning to find it
[Grace] [5376] sons were launched. One was in a draper's shop in Glasgow and
[Grace] [5377] the other was clerk to a tea- merchant in Belfast. They were good
[Grace] [5384] dutifully whenever he was sick and always tried to make him eat a
[Grace] [5391] to his bedroom, the air of which was impregnated with a personal
[Grace] [5400] He was quite unconscious that he was the victim of a plot which
[Grace] [5403] Power's, but its development was entrusted to Mr. Cunningham.
[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] [5410] elder colleague of Mr. Power. His own domestic life was very
[Grace] [5411] happy. People had great sympathy with him, for it was known that
[Grace] [5412] he had married an unpresentable woman who was an incurable
[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] [5422] his face was like Shakespeare's.
[Grace] [5429] illusions left. Religion for her was a habit, and she suspected that a
[Grace] [5431] She was tempted to see a curious appropriateness in his accident
[Grace] [5434] being shortened. However, Mr. Cunningham was a capable man;
[Grace] [5435] and religion was religion. The scheme might do good and, at least,
[Grace] [5439] was bounded by her kitchen, but, if she was put to it, she could
[Grace] [5490] "Those other two fellows I was with----"
[Grace] [5504] was known that the speaker had secret sources of information. In
[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] [5558] The narrative made Mr. Kernan indignant. He was keenly
[Grace] [5566] Mr. Cunningham laughed. He was a Castle official only during
[Grace] [5593] Everyone laughed again: but Mr. Kernan was somewhat indignant
[Grace] [5616] declined it, saying she was ironing downstairs, and, after having
[Grace] [5653] There was a short silence. Mr. Kernan waited to see whether he
[Grace] [5668] There was silence again. Then Mr. Power said, point blank:
[Grace] [5696] Mr. Kernan was silent. The proposal conveyed very little meaning
[Grace] [5718] time or other but the Jesuit Order was never once reformed. It
[Grace] [5750] Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was
[Grace] [5775] "Father Tom Burke, that was the boy!"
[Grace] [5777] "O, Father Tom Burke," said Mr. Cunningham, "that was a born
[Grace] [5789] say, he didn't preach what was quite orthodox."
[Grace] [5791] "Ah!... he was a splendid man," said Mr. M'Coy.
[Grace] [5799] "Yes, in the back near the door. I forget now what.... O yes, it was
[Grace] [5801] was magnificent, the style of the oratory. And his voice! God!
[Grace] [5808] Orangeman too. We went into Butler's in Moore Street--faith, was
[Grace] [5814] be crowds of Protestants in the chapel where Father Tom was
[Grace] [5842] trailing moustache was repeated in the fair eyebrows looped above
[Grace] [5843] pleasantly astonished eyes. Mr. Fogarty was a modest grocer. He
[Grace] [5850] neat enunciation. He was not without culture.
[Grace] [5855] appreciated the gift all the more since he was aware that there was
[Grace] [5864] the chair, was specially interested.
[Grace] [5866] "Pope Leo XIII," said Mr. Cunningham, "was one of the lights of
[Grace] [5867] the age. His great idea, you know, was the union of the Latin and
[Grace] [5868] Greek Churches. That was the aim of his life."
[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] [5874] you know, as Pope, was Lux upon Lux--Light upon Light."
[Grace] [5877] was Lux in Tenebris, I think--Light in Darkness."
[Grace] [5881] "Allow me," said Mr. Cunningham positively, "it was Lux upon
[Grace] [5882] Lux. And Pius IX his predecessor's motto was Crux upon Crux--
[Grace] [5886] The inference was allowed. Mr. Cunningham continued.
[Grace] [5888] "Pope Leo, you know, was a great scholar and a poet."
[Grace] [5904] "There was many a good man went to the penny-a-week school
[Grace] [5906] "The old system was the best: plain honest education. None of
[Grace] [5916] Leo's poems was on the invention of the photograph--in Latin, of
[Grace] [5941] There was a silence. Mr. Cunningham said
[Grace] [5955] "O, I know about the infallibility of the Pope. I remember I was
[Grace] [5956] younger then.... Or was it that----?"
[Grace] [5959] others to a little more. Mr. M'Coy, seeing that there was not
[Grace] [5966] "Papal infallibility," said Mr. Cunningham, "that was the greatest
[Grace] [5969] "How was that, Martin?" asked Mr. Power.
[Grace] [5975] others were all for it. The whole conclave except these two was
[Grace] [5983] "Dowling was no German, and that's a sure five," said Mr. Power,
[Grace] [5986] "Well, this great German cardinal, whatever his name was, was
[Grace] [5987] one; and the other was John MacHale."
[Grace] [5992] thought it was some Italian or American."
[Grace] [5994] "John of Tuam," repeated Mr. Cunningham, "was the man."
[Grace] [6031] "It was at the unveiling of Sir John Gray's statue. Edmund Dwyer
[Grace] [6032] Gray was speaking, blathering away, and here was this old fellow,
[Grace] [6040] an eye in a man's head. It was as much as to say: I have you
[Grace] [6043] "None of the Grays was any good," said Mr. Power.
[Grace] [6045] There was a pause again. Mr. Power turned to Mrs. Kernan and
[Grace] [6113] The transept of the Jesuit Church in Gardiner Street was almost
[Grace] [6123] formally at the distant speck of red light which was suspended
[Grace] [6132] well received, he had desisted. Even he was sensible of the
[Grace] [6137] the city, who was sitting immediately under the pulpit beside one
[Grace] [6140] Hogan's nephew, who was up for the job in the Town Clerk's
[Grace] [6150] A powerful-looking figure, the upper part of which was draped
[Grace] [6151] with a white surplice, was observed to be struggling into the pulpit.
[Grace] [6172] Father Purdon developed the text with resonant assurance. It was
[Grace] [6174] interpret properly. It was a text which might seem to the casual
[Grace] [6177] specially adapted for the guidance of those whose lot it was to lead
[Grace] [6179] manner of worldlings. It was a text for business men and
[Grace] [6189] He told his hearers that he was there that evening for no terrifying,
[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] [6202] hearers. And that was: to be straight and manly with God. If their
[The Dead] [6216] LILY, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet.
[The Dead] [6220] scamper along the bare hallway to let in another guest. It was well
[The Dead] [6228] It was always a great affair, the Misses Morkan's annual dance.
[The Dead] [6238] corn-factor on the ground floor. That was a good thirty years ago if
[The Dead] [6239] it was a day. Mary Jane, who was then a little girl in short clothes,
[The Dead] [6240] was now the main prop of the household, for she had the organ in
[The Dead] [6245] did their share. Julia, though she was quite grey, was still the
[The Dead] [6249] housemaid's work for them. Though their life was modest, they
[The Dead] [6253] her three mistresses. They were fussy, that was all. But the only
[The Dead] [6254] thing they would not stand was back answers.
[The Dead] [6257] then it was long after ten o'clock and yet there was no sign of
[The Dead] [6261] influence; and when he was like that it was sometimes very hard to
[The Dead] [6263] what could be keeping Gabriel: and that was what brought them
[The Dead] [6281] asked was Gabriel with her.
[The Dead] [6298] surname and glanced at her. She was a slim; growing girl, pale in
[The Dead] [6300] made her look still paler. Gabriel had known her when she was a
[The Dead] [6305] He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with the
[The Dead] [6307] moment to the piano and then glanced at the girl, who was folding
[The Dead] [6328] He was a stout, tallish young man. The high colour of his cheeks
[The Dead] [6333] glossy black hair was parted in the middle and brushed in a long
[The Dead] [6358] shuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl's bitter and
[The Dead] [6362] had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from
[The Dead] [6369] which they could not understand. They would think that he was
[The Dead] [6372] tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter
[The Dead] [6377] women. Aunt Julia was an inch or so the taller. Her hair, drawn
[The Dead] [6378] low over the tops of her ears, was grey; and grey also, with darker
[The Dead] [6379] shadows, was her large flaccid face. Though she was stout in build
[The Dead] [6381] appearance of a woman who did not know where she was or where
[The Dead] [6382] she was going. Aunt Kate was more vivacious. Her face, healthier
[The Dead] [6383] than her sister's, was all puckers and creases, like a shrivelled red
[The Dead] [6387] They both kissed Gabriel frankly. He was their favourite nephew
[The Dead] [6397] east wind blowing in after we passed Merrion. Very jolly it was.
[The Dead] [6419] Gabriel's solicitude was a standing joke with them.
[The Dead] [6450] you've seen about the room. Gretta was saying..."
[The Dead] [6464] was at all."
[The Dead] [6466] Gabriel was about to ask his aunt some questions on this point, but
[The Dead] [6468] down the stairs and was craning her neck over the banisters.
[The Dead] [6479] pianist told that the waltz had ended. The drawing-room door was
[The Dead] [6497] swarthy skin, who was passing out with his partner, said:
[The Dead] [6509] He did not finish his sentence, but, seeing that Aunt Kate was out
[The Dead] [6511] The middle of the room was occupied by two square tables placed
[The Dead] [6547] who was one of Mary Jane's pupils, asked Miss Daly what was the
[The Dead] [6549] that he was ignored, turned promptly to the two young men who
[The Dead] [6588] Julia, who was carrying in a column of table-napkins, turned to her
[The Dead] [6595] was of Gabriel's size and build, with very round shoulders. His face
[The Dead] [6596] was fleshy and pallid, touched with colour only at the thick
[The Dead] [6600] scanty hair made him look sleepy. He was laughing heartily in a
[The Dead] [6609] voice and then, seeing that Mr. Browne was grinning at him from
[The Dead] [6632] Freddy Malins, who was nearing the climax of his story, waved the
[The Dead] [6638] was once more wrinkling with mirth, poured out for himself a
[The Dead] [6646] Gabriel could not listen while Mary Jane was playing her Academy
[The Dead] [6648] drawing-room. He liked music but the piece she was playing had
[The Dead] [6662] beside it was a picture of the two murdered princes in the Tower
[The Dead] [6664] she was a girl. Probably in the school they had gone to as girls that
[The Dead] [6668] mulberry buttons. It was strange that his mother had had no
[The Dead] [6673] was pointing out something in it to Constantine who, dressed in a
[The Dead] [6674] man-o-war suit, lay at her feet. It was she who had chosen the
[The Dead] [6675] name of her sons for she was very sensible of the dignity of family
[The Dead] [6676] life. Thanks to her, Constantine was now senior curate in
[The Dead] [6681] spoken of Gretta as being country cute and that was not true of
[The Dead] [6682] Gretta at all. It was Gretta who had nursed her during all her last
[The Dead] [6686] was playing again the opening melody with runs of scales after
[The Dead] [6697] Ivors. She was a frank-mannered talkative young lady, with a
[The Dead] [6699] low-cut bodice and the large brooch which was fixed in the front
[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] [6732] every day when his teaching in the college was ended he used to
[The Dead] [6736] meet her charge. He wanted to say that literature was above
[The Dead] [6743] When their turn to cross had come he was still perplexed and
[The Dead] [6747] "Of course, I was only joking. Come, we cross now."
[The Dead] [6751] her his review of Browning's poems. That was how she had found
[The Dead] [6793] humour under the ordeal which was making a blush invade his
[The Dead] [6817] was surprised to feel his hand firmly pressed. She looked at him
[The Dead] [6819] Then, just as the chain was about to start again, she stood on tiptoe
[The Dead] [6825] of the room where Freddy Malins' mother was sitting. She was a
[The Dead] [6828] Freddy had come and that he was nearly all right. Gabriel asked
[The Dead] [6836] with Miss Ivors. Of course the girl or woman, or whatever she was,
[The Dead] [6837] was an enthusiast but there was a time for all things. Perhaps he
[The Dead] [6856] "Of course I was. Didn't you see me? What row had you with
[The Dead] [6864] "There was no row," said Gabriel moodily, "only she wanted me to
[The Dead] [6878] While she was threading her way back across the room Mrs.
[The Dead] [6882] they used to go fishing. Her son-in-law was a splendid fisher. One
[The Dead] [6886] Gabriel hardly heard what she said. Now that supper was coming
[The Dead] [6905] Ivors had praised the review. Was she sincere? Had she really any
[The Dead] [6917] good: that was one for Miss Ivors. What did he care that his aunts
[The Dead] [6920] A murmur in the room attracted his attention. Mr. Browne was
[The Dead] [6926] room, gradually ceased. Gabriel recognised the prelude. It was that
[The Dead] [6931] looking at the singer's face, was to feel and share the excitement of
[The Dead] [6933] others at the close of the song and loud applause was borne in
[The Dead] [6938] perched sideways to hear her better, was still applauding when
[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] [6974] "I often told Julia," said Aunt Kate emphatically, "that she was
[The Dead] [6999] in defence of her sister for it was a sore subject with her but Mary
[The Dead] [7006] Aunt Kate turned to Mr. Browne, who was grinning at this allusion
[The Dead] [7026] Miss Ivors, who had put on her hat and was buttoning her cloak,
[The Dead] [7065] hall-door. Gabriel asked himself was he the cause of her abrupt
[The Dead] [7082] crumbs, a neat paper frill round its shin and beside this was a
[The Dead] [7103] goose. He felt quite at ease now for he was an expert carver and
[The Dead] [7118] of hot floury potatoes wrapped in a white napkin. This was Mary
[The Dead] [7125] gentlemen and bottles of minerals for the ladies. There was a great
[The Dead] [7136] said there was time enough, so that, at last, Freddy Malins stood up
[The Dead] [7154] talk was the opera company which was then at the Theatre Royal.
[The Dead] [7158] style of production. Freddy Malins said there was a Negro
[The Dead] [7178] Mignon. Of course it was very fine, she said, but it made her think
[The Dead] [7182] Aramburo. Those were the days, he said, when there was
[The Dead] [7192] was why.
[The Dead] [7209] was only one tenor. To please me, I mean. But I suppose none of
[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] [7216] was ever put into a man's throat."
[The Dead] [7226] Gabriel having finished, the huge pudding was transferred to the
[The Dead] [7231] blancmange and jam. The pudding was of Aunt Julia's making and
[The Dead] [7233] was not quite brown enough.
[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] [7244] son was going down to Mount Melleray in a week or so. The table
[The Dead] [7245] then spoke of Mount Melleray, how bracing the air was down
[The Dead] [7260] He was astonished to hear that the monks never spoke, got up at
[The Dead] [7268] Aunt Kate repeated that it was the rule, that was all. Mr. Browne
[The Dead] [7272] was not very clear for Mr. Browne grinned and said:
[The Dead] [7279] As the subject had grown lugubrious it was buried in a silence of
[The Dead] [7301] upturned faces he raised his eyes to the chandelier. The piano was
[The Dead] [7305] listening to the waltz music. The air was pure there. In the distance
[The Dead] [7351] Gabriel's mind that Miss Ivors was not there and that she had gone
[The Dead] [7437] Aunt Kate was making frank use of her handkerchief and even
[The Dead] [7452] The acclamation which followed was taken up beyond the door of
[The Dead] [7484] At that moment the hall-door was opened and Mr. Browne came in
[The Dead] [7485] from the doorstep, laughing as if his heart would break. He was
[The Dead] [7489] whistling was borne in.
[The Dead] [7526] "Why, what was wonderful about Johnny?" asked Mr. Browne.
[The Dead] [7530] gentleman, was a glue-boiler."
[The Dead] [7538] mill. That was all very well; but now comes the tragic part about
[The Dead] [7554] was there."
[The Dead] [7560] was back again in the mill, anyhow he began to walk round the
[The Dead] [7567] who was a very pompous old gentleman, was highly indignant. 'Go
[The Dead] [7572] incident was interrupted by a resounding knock at the hall door.
[The Dead] [7575] cold, was puffing and steaming after his exertions.
[The Dead] [7584] Mrs. Malins was helped down the front steps by her son and Mr.
[The Dead] [7587] the seat, Mr. Browne helping him with advice. At last she was
[The Dead] [7589] cab. There was a good deal of confused talk, and then Mr. Browne
[The Dead] [7592] cabman was directed differently by Freddy Malins and Mr.
[The Dead] [7594] cab. The difficulty was to know where to drop Mr. Browne along
[The Dead] [7598] was speechless with laughter. He popped his head in and out of the
[The Dead] [7600] mother how the discussion was progressing, till at last Mr. Browne
[The Dead] [7618] The horse was whipped up and the cab rattled off along the quay
[The Dead] [7621] Gabriel had not gone to the door with the others. He was in a dark
[The Dead] [7622] part of the hall gazing up the staircase. A woman was standing
[The Dead] [7625] her skirt which the shadow made appear black and white. It was
[The Dead] [7626] his wife. She was leaning on the banisters, listening to something.
[The Dead] [7627] Gabriel was surprised at her stillness and strained his ear to listen
[The Dead] [7633] the voice was singing and gazing up at his wife. There was grace
[The Dead] [7642] The hall-door was closed; and Aunt Kate, Aunt Julia and Mary
[The Dead] [7648] wife was standing. Now that the hall-door was closed the voice
[The Dead] [7667] before she reached it the singing stopped and the piano was closed
[The Dead] [7683] "O, Mr. D'Arcy," said Aunt Kate, "now that was a great fib to tell."
[The Dead] [7712] him advice and said it was a great pity and urged him to be very
[The Dead] [7714] did not join in the conversation. She was standing right under the
[The Dead] [7717] She was in the same attitude and seemed unaware of the talk about
[The Dead] [7718] her. At last she turned towards them and Gabriel saw that there was
[The Dead] [7738] where good-night was said:
[The Dead] [7760] The morning was still dark. A dull, yellow light brooded over the
[The Dead] [7761] houses and the river; and the sky seemed to be descending. It was
[The Dead] [7768] She was walking on before him with Mr. Bartell D'Arcy, her shoes
[The Dead] [7775] She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he
[The Dead] [7780] burst like stars upon his memory. A heliotrope envelope was lying
[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] [7787] bottles in a roaring furnace. It was very cold. Her face, fragrant in
[The Dead] [7788] the cold air, was quite close to his; and suddenly he called out to
[The Dead] [7793] But the man could not hear with the noise of the furnace. It was
[The Dead] [7821] At the corner of Winetavern Street they met a cab. He was glad of
[The Dead] [7822] its rattling noise as it saved him from conversation. She was
[The Dead] [7826] old rattling box after his heels, and Gabriel was again in a cab with
[The Dead] [7855] happy that she was his, proud of her grace and wifely carriage. But
[The Dead] [7864] An old man was dozing in a great hooded chair in the hall. He lit a
[The Dead] [7891] The porter took up his candle again, but slowly, for he was
[The Dead] [7900] light. She had taken off her hat and cloak and was standing before
[The Dead] [7908] that the words would not pass Gabriel's lips. No, it was not the
[The Dead] [7920] waited again and then, fearing that diffidence was about to
[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] [7939] come to him of her own accord! To take her as she was would be
[The Dead] [7953] He was in such a fever of rage and desire that he did not hear her
[The Dead] [7963] washing had made it fine and brilliant. His heart was brimming
[The Dead] [7964] over with happiness. Just when he was wishing for it she had come
[The Dead] [7966] with his. Perhaps she had felt the impetuous desire that was in
[The Dead] [8007] "And who was the person long ago?" asked Gabriel, smiling.
[The Dead] [8009] "It was a person I used to know in Galway when I was living with
[The Dead] [8018] "It was a young boy I used to know," she answered, "named
[The Dead] [8020] He was very delicate."
[The Dead] [8022] Gabriel was silent. He did not wish her to think that he was
[The Dead] [8031] "I used to go out walking with him," she said, "when I was in
[The Dead] [8036] "Perhaps that was why you wanted to go to Galway with that Ivors
[The Dead] [8051] "He is dead," she said at length. "He died when he was only
[The Dead] [8054] "What was he?" asked Gabriel, still ironically.
[The Dead] [8056] "He was in the gasworks," she said.
[The Dead] [8071] when he spoke was humble and indifferent.
[The Dead] [8076] "I was great with him at that time," she said.
[The Dead] [8078] Her voice was veiled and sad. Gabriel, feeling now how vain it
[The Dead] [8082] "And what did he die of so young, Gretta? Consumption, was it?"
[The Dead] [8088] being was coming against him, gathering forces against him in its
[The Dead] [8091] again, for he felt that she would tell him of herself. Her hand was
[The Dead] [8096] "It was in the winter," she said, "about the beginning of the winter
[The Dead] [8097] when I was going to leave my grandmother's and come up here to
[The Dead] [8098] the convent. And he was ill at the time in his lodgings in Galway
[The Dead] [8100] to. He was in decline, they said, or something like that. I never
[The Dead] [8105] "Poor fellow," she said. "He was very fond of me and he was such
[The Dead] [8107] Gabriel, like the way they do in the country. He was going to study
[The Dead] [8114] come up to the convent he was much worse and I wouldn't be let
[The Dead] [8115] see him so I wrote him a letter saying I was going up to Dublin and
[The Dead] [8122] "Then the night before I left, I was in my grandmother's house in
[The Dead] [8124] window. The window was so wet I couldn't see, so I ran downstairs
[The Dead] [8125] as I was and slipped out the back into the garden and there was the
[The Dead] [8132] his eyes as well as well! He was standing at the end of the wall
[The Dead] [8133] where there was a tree."
[The Dead] [8137] "Yes, he went home. And when I was only a week in the convent
[The Dead] [8138] he died and he was buried in Oughterard, where his people came
[The Dead] [8139] from. O, the day I heard that, that he was dead!"
[The Dead] [8152] She was fast asleep.
[The Dead] [8164] face was no longer beautiful, but he knew that it was no longer the
[The Dead] [8177] face for a moment when she was singing Arrayed for the Bridal.
[The Dead] [8200] He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and
[The Dead] [8201] flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey
[The Dead] [8203] time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.
[The Dead] [8209] newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was
[The Dead] [8212] falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too,