So many things had a way of looking finer, when they were not so close. He could not say which he rathered: the sight of town or its reflection on the water. - P58
When he shone it on what was there, he judged, by what was on the floor, that the girl within had been there for longer than the night. - P59
The girl at his side said nothing but stood staring at the door, as though she might burn a hole through it with her eyes. - P61
Her eyes were neither blue nor grey but somewhere in between. - P65
‘What have I against girls?‘ he went on. My own mother was a girl, once. And I dare say the same must be true of you and all belonging to us.‘
There was a pause then, and Furlong felt she was not so much put off as changing tack - when the door opened and the girl from the shed was brought in wearing a blouse, cardigan and a pleated skirt and in shoes, with her wet hair badly combed out. - P67
The girl‘s frightened gaze went all around,
touched Furlong‘s briefly before falling back to the table and the crumbs on her plate. - P68
Furlong watched the girl being taken away and soon understood that this woman wanted him gone - but the urge to go was being replaced now by a type of contrariness to stay on, and to hold his ground.
Already, it was growing light outside.
Soon, the bells for first Mass would ring.
He sat on, encouraged by this queer, new power. He was,
after all, a man amongst women here. - P69
‘You don‘t mind bringing the foreigners in.‘
‘Hasn‘t everyone to be born somewhere,‘ Furlong said. ‘Sure wasn‘t Jesus was born in Bethlehem.‘
‘I‘d hardly compare Our Lord to those fellows.‘
She‘d had more than enough now, and put her hand down deep, into a pocket, and drew out an envelope.
‘I‘ll expect an invoice for what‘s owingbut here‘s something for Christmas.‘ - P70
They had expected him to go on, Furlong knew,
but he paused, contrarily, and stood by the girl.
‘Is there anything I can do for you, a leanbh?‘ he asked.
‘All you need do is tell me.‘
She looked at the window and took a breath and began to cry, the way those unused to any type of kindness do when it‘s at first or after a long time again encountered. - P71
The nun was plating up the egg and pudding,
scraping margarine from a big tub, noisily, acrossa cut of toast.
Deciding to say no more, Furlong went on out and pulled the door closed, then stood on the front step until he heard someone inside, turning the key. - P72
Reluctant as he was to take it, Furlong stretched out his hand. - P71
‘You‘ve missed first Mass,‘ Eileen said, when he got home.
‘Wasn‘t up at the convent and then they wouldn‘t let me leave without going in for tea.‘
‘Well, it‘s Christmas,‘ Eileen said. ‘Wasn‘t it the proper thing to do.‘
Furlong made no answer.
‘What did they give you?‘
‘Tea,‘ he said. And cake, was all.‘
‘But did they not give you something else?
‘What doyou mean?‘
‘For Christmas, I mean. They never let the the year pass without sending down something.‘
Furlong hadn‘t thought more of the envelope.
When Eileen opened it and took out the card, a fifty-pound note fell into her lap.
‘Aren‘t they very good,‘ she said. "This‘ll more than pay for what‘s owing at the butcher‘s. I‘ll collect the turkey and ham in the morning.’ - P74
How still it was up here but why was it not ever peaceful?
The day had not yet dawned, and Furlong looked down at the dark shining river whose surface reflected equal parts of the lighted town.
So many things had a way of looking finer, when they were not so close. He could not say which he rathered: the sight of town or its reflection on the water. Somewhere, voices were singing ‘Adeste Fideles‘. Most likely these were the boarders at St Margaret‘s, next door - but surely those girls had gone home? The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It must have been the girls in the training school. Or was it the nuns themselves, practising before early Mass? For a time he stood listening and looking down at the town, at the smoke starting up from the chimneys and the small, dimin-ishing stars in the sky. One of the brightest fell while he was standing there, leaving a streak likea chalk mark on a board for just a second before it vanished. Another seemed to burn out and slowly fade. - P57
the water. Somewhere, voices were singing ‘Adeste Fideles‘. Most likely these were the boarders at St Margaret‘s, next door - but surely those girls had gone home? The day after tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It must have been the girls in the training school. Or was it the nuns themselves, practising before early Mass? For a time he stood listening and looking down at the town, at the smoke starting up from the chimneys and the small, dimin-ishing stars in the sky. One of the brightest fell while he was standing there, leaving a streak likea chalk mark on a board for just a second before it vanished. Another seemed to burn out and slowly fade. - P58
Eileen‘s smile vanished and a type of astonishment spread across her face. Slowly, she drew outher purse and handed ten-pence pieces round, to the girls. - P75
Gossipers stayed down on the edge of the aisle to get a good gawk, watching for a new jacketor haircut, a limp, anything out of the ordinary. - P76
Slowly, he genuflected with his back to the congregation before taking his place at the altar.
Opening his arms out wide, he began: - P77
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