His day began with an heroic offering of its every moment of thought or action for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff and with an early mass. But the nightshade of his friend's listlessness seemed to be diffusing in the air around him a tenuous and deadly exhalation and be found himself glancing from one casual word to another on his right or left in stolid wonder that they had been so silently emptied of instantaneous sense until every mean shop legend bound his mind like the words of a spell and his soul shrivelled up sighing with age as he walked on in a lane among heaps of dead language. But the tide was near the turn and already the day was on the wane. But he had done something and besides Mr Gleeson would not flog him hard: and he remembered how big Corrigan looked in the bath.
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