Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; after a look behind he goes out and closes the corridor door. Christy Clarke takes the periodicals over to table and sits down. Myles Gorman has been eager and attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in face and figure, sanguine and benevolent in disposition. He has the looks and movements of one in authority. His hair is white and long; his silver beard is trimmed. His clothes are loosely fitting. He wears no overcoat, but has a white knitted muffler round his neck. He has on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking-stick.
[Footnote 6: A mhic bhig, my little son.]
MUSKERRY
Well, my good man?
GORMAN
I'm here to ask a favour from you, Master.
MUSKERRY
You should proffer your request when I'm in the ward.
However, I'm ready to give you my attention.
GORMAN I'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the ward I can't get you by yourself conveniently. I can't come up to you like the other oul' men and speak to you private like.
MUSKERRY
Well, now, what can I do for you?
GORMAN (eagerly) They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, and I thought that you might give me a pass, and let me go out about the town.
MUSKERRY
We'll consider it, Gorman.
GORMAN
Master, let me out in the town on the market-day.