Портрет художника в юності

           Butwhatislimbo?

           —Puthimbackintotheperambulator,Cranly,O’Keeffecalledout.

           CranlymadeaswiftsteptowardsTemple,halted,stampinghisfoot,cryingasiftoafowl:

           —Hoosh!

           Templemovedawaynimbly.

           —Doyouknowwhatlimbois?hecried.DoyouknowwhatwecallanotionlikethatinRoscommon?

           —Hoosh!Blastyou!Cranlycried,clappinghishands.

           —Neithermyarsenormyelbow!Templecriedoutscornfully.Andthat’swhatIcalllimbo.

           —Giveusthatstickhere,Cranlysaid.

           HesnatchedtheashplantroughlyfromStephen’shandandsprangdownthesteps:butTemple,hearinghimmoveinpursuit,fledthroughthedusklikeawildcreature,nimbleandfleet-footed.Cranly’sheavybootswereheardloudlychargingacrossthequadrangleandthenreturningheavily,foiledandspurningthegravelateachstep.

           HisstepwasangryandwithanangryabruptgesturehethrustthestickbackintoStephen’shand.Stephenfeltthathisangerhadanothercausebut,feigningpatience,touchedhisarmslightlyandsaidquietly:

           —Cranly,ItoldyouIwantedtospeaktoyou.Comeaway.Cranlylookedathimforafewmomentsandasked:

           —Now?

           —Yes,now,Stephensaid.Wecan’tspeakhere.Comeaway.

           Theycrossedthequadrangletogetherwithoutspeaking.