―Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at home. You’re right, by God. So he was.

―I never broach the subject, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I see a gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their minds.

―It’s not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. I met him the day before yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan’s wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home to his better half. She’s well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast.

―And is he doing for the Freeman ? Davy Byrne said.

Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.

―He doesn’t buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of that.

―How so? Davy Byrne asked, coming from his book.