He could hear the band playing THE LILY OF KILLARNEY and knew that in a few moments the curtain would go up. They entered the grounds of the college and were led by the garrulous porter across the quadrangle. The gross name had passed over it like foul water poured over an old stone image, patient of injuries; and, as he watched him, he saw him raise his hat in salute and uncover the black hair that stood stiffly from his forehead like an iron crown. It was that windless hour of dawn when madness wakes and strange plants open to the light and the moth flies forth silently.
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