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A man passes a day in early twentieth-century Dublin, in a journey patterned on Homer’s Odyssey.

Page 188 of 872
Table of Contents

Chapter 7

―Is the editor to be seen? J. J. O’Molloy asked, looking towards the inner door.

―Very much so, professor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He’s in his sanctum with Lenehan.

J. J. O’Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the pink pages of the file.

Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts of honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show their grey matter. Brains on their sleeve like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began on the Independent . Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same breath. Wouldn’t know which to believe. One story

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