Дублінці
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.
