panied delightedly by her hips, etc. The fiery
darts encompassing her about of the amorously
disposed were quenched as tow. She entered
the saloon bar of a Chef and Brewer and had a
sandwich of prawn and tomato and a dock glass
of white port off the zinc. She then made her way
rapidly on foot, followed by four football pool
collectors at four shillings in the pound commission,
to the apartment in Tyburnia of her paternal
grandfather, Mr. Willoughby Kelly. She kept
nothing from Mr. Kelly except what she thought
might give him pain, i.e. next to nothing.

She had left Ireland at the age of four.

Mr. Kelly's face was narrow and profoundly
seamed with a lifetime of dingy, stingy repose.
Just as all hope seemed lost it burst into a fine
bulb of skull, unobscured by hair. Yet a little
while and his brain-body ratio would have sunk
to that of a small bird. He lay back in bed,
doing nothing, unless an occasional pluck at the
counterpane be entered to his credit.

"You are all I have in the world," said Cclia.
Mr. Kelly nestled.

"You," said Celia, "and possibly Murphy."

Mr. Kelly started up in the bed. His eyes
could not very well protrude, so deeply were
they imbedded, but they could open, and this
they did.

-11-