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           Hisheartswelledwithfuryand,whenhethoughtofthewomaninthebighatwhohadbrushedagainsthimandsaidPardon!hisfurynearlychokedhim.

           HistramlethimdownatShelbourneRoadandhesteeredhisgreatbodyalongintheshadowofthewallofthebarracks.Heloathedreturningtohishome.Whenhewentinbythesidedoorhefoundthekitchenemptyandthekitchenfirenearlyout.Hebawledupstairs:

           “Ada!Ada!”

           Hiswifewasalittlesharp-facedwomanwhobulliedherhusbandwhenhewassoberandwasbulliedbyhimwhenhewasdrunk.Theyhadfivechildren.Alittleboycamerunningdownthestairs.

           “Whoisthat?”saidtheman,peeringthroughthedarkness.

           “Me,pa.”

           “Whoareyou?Charlie?”

           “No,pa.Tom.”

           “Where’syourmother?”

           “She’soutatthechapel.”

           “That’sright....Didshethinkofleavinganydinnerforme?”

           “Yes,pa.I—”

           “Lightthelamp.Whatdoyoumeanbyhavingtheplaceindarkness?Aretheotherchildreninbed?”

           Themansatdownheavilyononeofthechairswhilethelittleboylitthelamp.Hebegantomimichisson’sflataccent,sayinghalftohimself:“Atthechapel

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