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"God!" he exclaimed, resuming his natural face, "I never saw such an eye in a man's head. It was as much as to say: I have you properly taped, my lad. He had an eye like a hawk." "None of the Grays was any good," said Mr. Power. There was a pause again. Mr. Power turned to Mrs. Kernan and said with abrupt joviality: "Well, Mrs.
I'd feel perfectly safe in your sanctum asinorum. Tra-la!" "He's as mad as a cat that's lost a mouse," said Kernan, hanging up the receiver and coming out. "And now, Barney, my boy, we'll go to a show and enjoy ourselves until a reasonable bedtime. Four hours' sleep for me, and then the west-bound." The two dined in a Broadway restaurant. Kernan was pleased with himself.
Power whistled for an outsider. The injured man said again as well as he could. "I' 'ery 'uch o'liged to you, sir. I hope we'll 'eet again. 'y na'e is Kernan." The shock and the incipient pain had partly sobered him. "Don't mention it," said the young man. They shook hands. Mr. Kernan was hoisted on to the car and, while Mr.
I forgot to tap Tom Kernan. Sss. Dth, dth, dth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her belly swollen out. Phew! Dreadful simply! Child's head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the way out. Kill me that would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent something to stop that.
M'Coy. "That's my opinion!" Mrs. Kernan entered the room and, placing a tray on the table, said: "Help yourselves, gentlemen." Mr. Power stood up to officiate, offering her his chair. She declined it, saying she was ironing downstairs, and, after having exchanged a nod with Mr. Cunningham behind Mr. Power's back, prepared to leave the room.
"And so," continued Kernan, "you being Barney Woods, born as true as steel, and bound to play a white man's game, can't lift a finger to arrest the man you're indebted to. Oh, I have to study men as well as Yale locks and window fastenings in my business. Now, keep quiet while I ring for the waiter. I've had a thirst for a year or two that worries me a little.
Kernan's decline was mitigated by the fact that certain of those friends who had known him at his highest point of success still esteemed him as a character. Mr. Power was one of these friends. His inexplicable debts were a byword in his circle; he was a debonair young man. The car halted before a small house on the Glasnevin road and Mr. Kernan was helped into the house.
"It's only a little matter that we're arranging about for Thursday." "The opera, is it?" said Mr. Kernan. "No, no," said Mr. Cunningham in an evasive tone, "it's just a little... spiritual matter." "O," said Mr. Kernan. There was silence again. Then Mr. Power said, point blank: "To tell you the truth, Tom, we're going to make a retreat." "Yes, that's it," said Mr.
Half-past three in the morning found them in a corner of an all-night café, Kernan still boasting in a vapid and rambling way, Woods thinking moodily over the end that had come to his usefulness as an upholder of the law. But, as he pondered, his eye brightened with a speculative light. "I wonder if it's possible," he said to himself, "I won-der if it's pos-si-ble!"
Power earnestly, "because it is sure to be crammed to the doors." "We can meet at half-seven," said Mr. M'Coy. "Righto!" said Mr. Cunningham. "Half-seven at M'Auley's be it!" There was a short silence. Mr. Kernan waited to see whether he would be taken into his friends' confidence. Then he asked: "What's in the wind?" "O, it's nothing," said Mr. Cunningham.
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