But his mother? Very young or very old? Hardly the first. Cranly laughed, tightening his grip on Stephen's arm, and said: --The distillery is damn good. Then, as if giving utterance to the process of his own thought, he said: --Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not. He felt a warm glow creeping up from the cold shivering sheets, warmer and warmer till he felt warm all over, ever so warm and yet he shivered a little and still wanted to yawn.