Дублінці
The Boarding House
Shetoldhimall,thatshehadmadeacleanbreastofittohermotherandthathermotherwouldspeakwithhimthatmorning.Shecriedandthrewherarmsroundhisneck,saying:
“OBob!Bob!WhatamItodo?WhatamItodoatall?”
Shewouldputanendtoherself,shesaid.
Hecomfortedherfeebly,tellinghernottocry,thatitwouldbeallright,neverfear.Hefeltagainsthisshirttheagitationofherbosom.
Itwasnotaltogetherhisfaultthatithadhappened.Herememberedwell,withthecuriouspatientmemoryofthecelibate,thefirstcasualcaressesherdress,herbreath,herfingershadgivenhim.Thenlateonenightashewasundressingforshehadtappedathisdoor,timidly.Shewantedtorelighthercandleathisforhershadbeenblownoutbyagust.Itwasherbathnight.Sheworealooseopencombing-jacketofprintedflannel.Herwhiteinstepshoneintheopeningofherfurryslippersandthebloodglowedwarmlybehindherperfumedskin.Fromherhandsandwriststooasshelitandsteadiedhercandleafaintperfumearose.
Onnightswhenhecameinverylateitwasshewhowarmeduphisdinner.Hescarcelyknewwhathewaseatingfeelingherbesidehimalone,atnight,inthesleepinghouse.Andherthoughtfulness!Ifthenightwasanywaycoldorwetorwindytherewassuretobealittletumblerofpunchreadyforhim.Perhapstheycouldbehappytogether....
