Дублінці
Grace
“I’‘ery‘ucho’ligedtoyou,sir,”saidtheinjuredman.
“Notatall.”
“‘antwehavealittle...?”
“Notnow.Notnow.”
Thethreemenleftthebarandthecrowdsiftedthroughthedoorsintothelaneway.Themanagerbroughttheconstabletothestairstoinspectthesceneoftheaccident.Theyagreedthatthegentlemanmusthavemissedhisfooting.Thecustomersreturnedtothecounterandacuratesetaboutremovingthetracesofbloodfromthefloor.
WhentheycameoutintoGraftonStreet,Mr.Powerwhistledforanoutsider.Theinjuredmansaidagainaswellashecould.
“I’‘ery‘ucho’ligedtoyou,sir.Ihopewe’ll‘eetagain.‘yna’eisKernan.”
Theshockandtheincipientpainhadpartlysoberedhim.
“Don’tmentionit,”saidtheyoungman.
Theyshookhands.Mr.Kernanwashoistedontothecarand,whileMr.Powerwasgivingdirectionstothecarman,heexpressedhisgratitudetotheyoungmanandregrettedthattheycouldnothavealittledrinktogether.
“Anothertime,”saidtheyoungman.
ThecardroveofftowardsWestmorelandStreet.AsitpassedBallastOfficetheclockshowedhalf-pastnine.Akeeneastwindhitthem,blowingfromthemouthoftheriver.Mr.Kernanwashuddledtogetherwithcold.Hisfriendaskedhimtotellhowtheaccidenthadhappened.
