lt, eprange vision. toreets of the poorer jews.
-- A to myself, Stevie, last autumn, coming on er, and I never told it to a living soul and you are t person noold it to. I disremember if it ober or November. It ober because it riculation class.
Stepurned oered by o sympat.
-- I day from my otevant.
-- I dont kno a cevie, t . My first cousin, Fonsy Davin, ripped to day minding cool for t ime and sing like mad. I never t day. One of t ime o God ting it at temple. O to God, if t caug time he was done for.
-- I am glad ep surely ts not trange t doesnt interest you, but leaster tc I missed train get any kind of a yoke to give me a lift for, as luck ing t same day over in Castleto only to stay t or to foot it out. ell, I started to and it o ts better ten miles from Kilmallock and ter t. You see tian c. Once or topped by to redden my pipe and only for tretc t. At last, after a bend of ttle cottage in t up and knocked at t tctevant and Id be ter. After a a big mug of milk. So bed alk a long it strange because and ired and o stop t t morning to Queenstoer to see ime salking, Stevie, sood so close to me I could last sook my o draay t o be frig but ourselves. I didnt go in, Stevie. I t on my t bend of tanding at the door.
t ory sang in ory stood forted in ot Clane as type of -like soul o tself in darkness and secrecy and loneliness and, ture of a guile, calling tranger to her bed.
A hand was laid on his arm and a young voice cried:
-- Aleman, your o oday, gentleman. Buy t lovely buncleman?
ted to instant images of guilelessness, and ed till the image had vanished and he saw only her ragged dress and damp coarse hair and hoydenish face.
-- Do, gentleman! Dont forget your own girl, sir!
-- I ephen.
-- Buy them lovely ones, will you, sir? Only a penny.
-- Did you I said? asked Stepowards her.
I told you I ell you again now.
-- ell, sure, you er an instant.