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'
Ecod
!
Corley
,
you
know
how
to
take
them
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
'm
up
to
all
their
little
tricks
,
"
Corley
confessed
.
"
But
tell
me
,
"
said
Lenehan
again
,
"
are
you
sure
you
can
bring
it
off
all
right
?
You
know
it
's
a
ticklish
job
.
They
're
damn
close
on
that
point
.
Eh
?
...
What
?
"
His
bright
,
small
eyes
searched
his
companion
's
face
for
reassurance
.
Corley
swung
his
head
to
and
fro
as
if
to
toss
aside
an
insistent
insect
,
and
his
brows
gathered
.
"
I
'll
pull
it
off
,
"
he
said
.
"
Leave
it
to
me
,
ca
n't
you
?
"
Lenehan
said
no
more
.
He
did
not
wish
to
ruffle
his
friend
's
temper
,
to
be
sent
to
the
devil
and
told
that
his
advice
was
not
wanted
.
A
little
tact
was
necessary
.
But
Corley
's
brow
was
soon
smooth
again
.
His
thoughts
were
running
another
way
.
"
She
's
a
fine
decent
tart
,
"
he
said
,
with
appreciation
;
"
that
's
what
she
is
.
"
They
walked
along
Nassau
Street
and
then
turned
into
Kildare
Street
.
Not
far
from
the
porch
of
the
club
a
harpist
stood
in
the
roadway
,
playing
to
a
little
ring
of
listeners
.
He
plucked
at
the
wires
heedlessly
,
glancing
quickly
from
time
to
time
at
the
face
of
each
new-comer
and
from
time
to
time
,
wearily
also
,
at
the
sky
.
His
harp
,
too
,
heedless
that
her
coverings
had
fallen
about
her
knees
,
seemed
weary
alike
of
the
eyes
of
strangers
and
of
her
master
's
hands
.
One
hand
played
in
the
bass
the
melody
of
Silent
,
O
Moyle
,
while
the
other
hand
careered
in
the
treble
after
each
group
of
notes
.
The
notes
of
the
air
sounded
deep
and
full
.
The
two
young
men
walked
up
the
street
without
speaking
,
the
mournful
music
following
them
.
When
they
reached
Stephen
's
Green
they
crossed
the
road
.
Here
the
noise
of
trams
,
the
lights
and
the
crowd
released
them
from
their
silence
.
