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Updated: May 2, 2025
"I never will forgive you," interrupted Lady Jane. "Ring! yes, ring the bell and when rung, never expect my forgiveness." It must be done, thought Caroline, sooner or later. "My compliments, Keppel, to Lord William," said Lady Jane; "I have no commands to trouble him with. Stay, I must find something that parcel for Mrs. Baggot, Tunbridge I must write I cannot write."
A lady who lived in Baggot Street said she had been up all night, and, with her neighbours, had supplied tea and bread to the soldiers who were lining the street.
"And where did you pick her up, Corley?" he asked. Corley ran his tongue swiftly along his upper lip. "One night, man," he said, "I was going along Dame Street and I spotted a fine tart under Waterhouse's clock and said good-night, you know. So we went for a walk round by the canal and she told me she was a slavey in a house in Baggot Street.
They were walking quickly, the young woman taking quick short steps, while Corley kept beside her with his long stride. They did not seem to be speaking. An intimation of the result pricked him like the point of a sharp instrument. He knew Corley would fail; he knew it was no go. They turned down Baggot Street and he followed them at once, taking the other footpath.
In the early stages of Jocelyn's relapse the Parkers of Baggot Street descended on Roscarna in force: a proceeding that Lady Hewish had discountenanced in her lifetime.
He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a predicate in the past tense. He never gave alms to beggars and walked firmly, carrying a stout hazel. He had been for many years cashier of a private bank in Baggot Street. Every morning he came in from Chapelizod by tram.
In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke's lawn, thence through Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no more crack after that first. Over against the Rt. Hon. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford's journal sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun., scholar of my lady of Mercy's, Vin.
Gilbert said once, as they passed a group of sickly children sitting at the entrance to a court of Baggot Street. "Why?" Henry replied. "These kids are syphilitic," Gilbert answered. "The place is full of syphilis!" "Dublin is a garrison town and a University town," said Henry, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Gradually he restored Roscarna to its old position as a first-class sporting property; and so, having fought his way back, step by step, into the company of decent men, he married a wife. Hardly the wife one would have expected from a Hewish, it is true. Her name was Parker, her father was a shop-keeper in Baggot Street, Dublin, and how Hewish met her God only knows.
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