“I’ll probably go and see what the fire is,” Himself answered. He turned to me. “It’ll do you good to get out.”
Mrs. Slaney retreated, and Mrs. O’Grady nodded her head. “It’d be a charity to leave her alone. She’s that frightened it would do her good.” Then she went out.
“Well?”
“What a haul,” Himself exclaimed.
“How about poor 47?” I cried.
“He must be all right. His name’s not in the paper. We must look him up.”
“Look his poor wife up.” And then I said, “Let’s have tea and get out for a bit. I hate the feeling of this house.”
“We’d better get back before it’s late. It’s sure to be a disturbed night. I expect they’ll make curfew earlier after this.”
As soon as I got into the street I felt better. The moving people gave me confidence, although all through the city there was a feeling of fear such as I cannot describe. Rumours of the Croke Park affair, where a dozen people had been shot by the police at a football match, were being whispered abroad; but nobody seemed to know much. We remembered the dead man in the lorry.
The fire was burning out. We saw it now and then through the openings of the streets; but we never got as far as it. It had long been dark, and I soon found the night was getting colder and colder. Presently I began to think a fire at home would be less dismal than this tramping about in the dark. After half an hour everybody seemed to have gone indoors, and there was danger of being curfewed if a sudden change was made in the time.