if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan’s steps resignedly.

being blind, was a quiet street

dull inelegance of Capel Street

for he was a delicate and abstinent person

Could he write something original? He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him

He had never been in Corless’s but he knew the value of the name

Few fellows had talents like his

his well-cut tweed suit

School and home seemed to recede from us and their influences upon us seemed to wane.

but, at least, they opened doors of escape

Then he began to talk of school and of books. He asked us whether we had read the poetry of Thomas Moore or the works of Sir Walter Scott and Lord Lytton.

He walked towards us very slowly, always tapping the ground with his stick, so slowly that I thought he was looking for something in the grass.

said Mahony pertly

He was shabbily dressed

Mahony began to play the Indian as soon as we were out of public sight. He chased a crowd of ragged girls, brandishing his unloaded catapult and, when two ragged boys began, out of chivalry, to fling stones at us, he proposed that we should charge them.

A slatternly girl waited on him.

He sauntered across the road swaying his head from side to side. His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them.

Lenehan said no more. He did not wish to ruffle his friend’s temper, to be sent to the devil and told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary.

He spoke without listening to the speech of his companions. His conversation was mainly about himself

his adroitness and eloquence