ted o sit, smiling or serious, asking  of t above tenanted sideboard. alk and beg o sing one of ting at triking cly from its speckled keys and singing, amid talk y song of t loto depart, tory c of Agincourt, tened, or feigned to listen,   rest but tle too soon.

    At certain instants  to trust  ed in vain. Sly across  nig te dress a little lifted, a ole averted and a faint gloant, a soft merchandise.

    -- You are a great stranger now.

    -- Yes. I o be a monk.

    -- I am afraid you are a ic.

    -- Are you much afraid?

    For ansly, giving o none. te spray nodded to he glow was deeper on her cheek.

    A monk! arted forter, a ic franciscan,  to serve, spinning like Gry and whispering in her ear.

    No, it

    in   of doves eyes, toying he pages of her Irish phrase-book.

    -- Yes, yes, to us. I can see it every day. t he language has.

    -- And ther Moran?

    -- too. Coming round too. too. Dont fret about the church.

    Bao leave t to salute eps of to leave o flirt , to toy endom.

    Rude brutal anger routed t lingering instant of ecstasy from  broke up violently s on all sides. On all sides distorted reflections of arted from c ter of es, ry singer, t bars of By Killarneys Lakes and Fells, a girl pat t, attracted by  of Jacobs biscuit factory, wo him over her shoulder:

    -- Do you like raight hair and curly eyebrows?

    And yet  t,  revile and mock  t  erly as reets t sry, a bat-like soul o tself in darkness and