Дублинцы

Grace

           There’ssomethingkeepscomingintomythroat,phlegmor

           “Mucus.”saidMr.M’Coy.

           “Itkeepscominglikefromdowninmythroat;sickening.”

           “Yes,yes,”saidMr.M’Coy,“that’sthethorax.”

           HelookedatMr.CunninghamandMr.Poweratthesametimewithanairofchallenge.Mr.CunninghamnoddedhisheadrapidlyandMr.Powersaid:

           “Ah,well,all’swellthatendswell.”

           “I’mverymuchobligedtoyou,oldman,”saidtheinvalid.

           Mr.Powerwavedhishand.

           “ThoseothertwofellowsIwaswith

           “Whowereyouwith?”askedMr.Cunningham.

           “Achap.Idon’tknowhisname.Damnitnow,what’shisname?Littlechapwithsandyhair....

           “Andwhoelse?”

           “Harford.”

           “Hm,”saidMr.Cunningham.

           WhenMr.Cunninghammadethatremark,peopleweresilent.Itwasknownthatthespeakerhadsecretsourcesofinformation.Inthiscasethemonosyllablehadamoralintention.Mr.HarfordsometimesformedoneofalittledetachmentwhichleftthecityshortlyafternoononSundaywiththepurposeofarrivingassoonaspossibleatsomepublic-houseontheoutskirtsofthecitywhereitsmembersdulyqualifiedthemselvesasbonafidetravellers.Buthisfellow-travellershadneverconsentedtooverlookhisorigin.

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