as often to be seen walking with policemen
in plain clothes, talking earnestly. He knew the inner side of all
affairs and was fond of delivering final judgments. He spoke without
listening to the speech of his companions. His conversation was mainly
about himself what he had said to such a person and what such a person
had said to him and what he had said to settle the matter. When he
reported these dialogues he aspirated the first letter of his name after
the manner of Florentines.

Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. As the two young men walked on
through the crowd Corley occasionally turned to smile at some of the
passing girls but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the large faint moon
circled with a double halo. He watched earnestly the passing of the grey
web of twilight across its face. At length he said:

"Well... tell me, Corley, I suppose you'll be able to pull it off all
right, eh?"

Corley closed one eye expressively as an answer.

"Is she game for that?" asked Lenehan dubiously. "You can never know
women."

"She's all right," said Corley. "I know the way to get around her, man.
She's a bit gone on me."

"You're what I call a gay Lothario," said Lenehan. "And the proper kind
of a Lothario, too!"

A shade of mockery relieved the servility of his manner. To save himself
he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of
raillery. But Corley had not a subtle mind.

"There's nothing to touch a good slavey," he affirmed. "Take my tip for
it."

"By one who has tried them all," said Lenehan.

"First I used to go with girls, you know," said Corley, unbosoming;
"girls off the South Circular. I used to take them out, man, on the
tram somewhere and pay the tram or take them to a band or a play at the
theatre or buy them chocolate and sweets or something that way. I used
to spend money on them right enough," he added, in a convincing tone, as
if he was conscious of being disbelieved.

But Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely.

"I know that game," he said, "and it's a mug's game."

"And damn the thing I ever got out of it," said Corley.

"Ditto here," said Lenehan.

"Only off of one of them," said Corley.

He moistened his upper lip by running his tongue along it. The
recollection brightened his eyes. He too gazed at the pale disc of the
moon, now nearly veiled, and seemed to meditate.

"She was... a bit of all right," he said regretfully.

He was silent again. Then he