Дублинцы
Counterparts
Fromthestreetdoorhewalkedonfurtivelyontheinnersideofthepathtowardsthecornerandallatoncedivedintoadoorway.HewasnowsafeinthedarksnugofO’Neill’sshop,andfillingupthelittlewindowthatlookedintothebarwithhisinflamedface,thecolourofdarkwineordarkmeat,hecalledout:
“Here,Pat,giveusag.p..likeagoodfellow.”
Thecuratebroughthimaglassofplainporter.Themandrankitatagulpandaskedforacarawayseed.Heputhispennyonthecounterand,leavingthecuratetogropeforitinthegloom,retreatedoutofthesnugasfurtivelyashehadenteredit.
Darkness,accompaniedbyathickfog,wasgainingupontheduskofFebruaryandthelampsinEustaceStreethadbeenlit.Themanwentupbythehousesuntilhereachedthedooroftheoffice,wonderingwhetherhecouldfinishhiscopyintime.Onthestairsamoistpungentodourofperfumessalutedhisnose:evidentlyMissDelacourhadcomewhilehewasoutinO’Neill’s.Hecrammedhiscapbackagainintohispocketandre-enteredtheoffice,assuminganairofabsentmindedness.
“Mr.Alleynehasbeencallingforyou,”saidthechiefclerkseverely.“Wherewereyou?”
Themanglancedatthetwoclientswhowerestandingatthecounterasiftointimatethattheirpresencepreventedhimfromanswering.Astheclientswerebothmalethechiefclerkallowedhimselfalaugh.
“Iknowthatgame,”hesaid.
