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           Habitandawearehardertoovercomethanpeoplerealizeuntiltheyactuallytrytocircumventtheconductofyears;Frankfoundhecouldnotdowhathelongedtodo,hecouldnotthrowthecontentsofhisglassinhisfather’sface,notinfrontofabarcrowd.Sohedownedwhatwasleftofhisbeeratagulp,smiledalittlesicklyandsaid,"Sorry,Daddy,I’vepromisedtomeetsomeblokesdownattheshowground."

           "Well,offyougo,then.Buthere,takethisandspenditonyourself.Haveagoodtime,andifyougetdrunkdon’tletyourmotherfindout."

           Frankstaredatthecrispbluefive-poundnoteinhishand,longingtotearitintoshredsandflingtheminPaddy’sface,butcustomwonagain;hefoldedit,putitinhisfobpocketandthankedhisfather.Hecouldn’tgetoutofthebarquicklyenough.

           Inhisbestbluesuit,waistcoatbuttoned,goldwatchsecuredbyagoldchainandaweightmadefromanuggetofftheLawrencegoldfields,Paddytuggedathiscelluloidcollarandlookeddownthebarforafacehemightrecognize.HehadnotbeenintoGillyveryoftenduringtheninemonthssincehearrivedonDrogheda,buthispositionasMaryCarson’sbrotherandheirapparentmeantthathehadbeentreatedveryhospitablywheneverhehadbeenintown,andthathisfacewaswellremembered.Severalmenbeamedathim,voicesofferedtoshouthimabeer,andhewassooninthemiddleofacomfortablelittlecrowd;Frankwasforgotten.