"Then you've been here during the rising?"
"Yes," I said.
In a tone which showed how deeply he had been moved by Easter Week, he added:
"It's been a terrible business!"
To that I could feelingly agree.
At length he gave me a permit, not one to leave Dublin, but merely to see the military authorities. Here was another ordeal.
I went up to a soldier in the corridor and asked him where I should go.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"It's on this permit," I replied, holding it out to him.