Дублінці

           “No,no,”saidMr.Cunninghaminanevasivetone,“it’sjustalittle...spiritualmatter.”

           “0,”saidMr.Kernan.

           Therewassilenceagain.ThenMr.Powersaid,pointblank:

           “Totellyouthetruth,Tom,we’regoingtomakearetreat.”

           “Yes,that’sit,”saidMr.Cunningham,“JackandIandM’Coyhere—we’reallgoingtowashthepot.”

           Heutteredthemetaphorwithacertainhomelyenergyand,encouragedbyhisownvoice,proceeded:

           “Yousee,wemayaswellalladmitwe’reanicecollectionofscoundrels,oneandall.Isay,oneandall,”headdedwithgruffcharityandturningtoMr.Power.“Ownupnow!”

           “Iownup,”saidMr.Power.

           “AndIownup,”saidMr.M’Coy.

           “Sowe’regoingtowashthepottogether,”saidMr.Cunningham.

           Athoughtseemedtostrikehim.Heturnedsuddenlytotheinvalidandsaid:

           “D’yeknowwhat,Tom,hasjustoccurredtome?Younightjoininandwe’dhaveafour-handedreel.”

           “Goodidea,”saidMr.Power.“Thefourofustogether.”

           Mr.Kernanwassilent.Theproposalconveyedverylittlemeaningtohismind,but,understandingthatsomespiritualagencieswereabouttoconcernthemselvesonhisbehalf,hethoughtheowedittohisdignitytoshowastiffneck.