He gave, at any rate, like a convalescent slightly fatigued, a languid shake of his head. Another, a brisk old man, whom Mr Dedalus called Johnny Cashman, had covered him with confusion by asking him to say which were prettier, the Dublin girls or the Cork girls. Yet her mistrust pricked him more keenly than his father's pride and he thought coldly how he had watched the faith which was fading down in his soul ageing and strengthening in her eyes. Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.
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