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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XXX. When he rose the next morning, the rain had ceased, but the winds still bellowed. Shaving himself with limp fingers he could see the flocks of seagulls around the shore; they seemed very conscious of the storm, alert, impatient; unlike the sleek, black-coated water-hens leisurely breakfasting among them. He remembered how he had given a thought to them in the dead of night, surely long ago. Across and beyond the Lough, the ground falls away to low-lying meadowlands, through which, under tangled boughs, meanders a high-banked stream. Martin thought how depressing it would be along that stream to-day, under the dripping branches, through the sodden grass; the office, with its bright fire and sense of companionship, was surely preferable. A needless discussion; his soul was pursuing the tactics of the night. He had scarcely reached the office when the rain started again. The force of the storm had not lessened; yet people began to laugh at it. In fact it made the whole day interesting. People scanted the conventions; they took liberties, forgot the use of counters, walked inside them to shake their hats in the fire. One of the clerks invented wedges of blotting-paper to keep the windows from rattling, he spoke all day of the Patent Office. At the top of the house in a lumber room, a door banged at intervals, as if people were walking about in the dreary region, and none of the clerks would climb up to fasten it: they said they were afraid. And which of them was without a story! A slate had sailed through the air and burst like a shell at this man's feet: he was to die in his bed after all; another had seen some old houses at the corner of White Street tumble down, quite gently, he said, not like what you'd expect. At...
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