Tournour has swept as far as the corridor door. He opens it and sweeps down the passage. He goes out and closes door.
CRILLY That's a damn clever fellow. (He becomes anxious, as with a troubled recollection. He goes to the little cabinet, opens it, and takes out a bottle of whisky and a glass. He pours some whisky into the glass, and remains looking at himself in the mirror. He smooths his beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, the anxious expression still on his face) This is a cursed town. (He drinks)
ALBERT
Every town in Ireland is a cursed town.
CRILLY But this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Everybody's in debt to everybody else. I don't know what's to be done. Now, imagine that fellow, James Covey, failing in business and getting clear out of the town.
ALBERT
Covey seems to have done it well.
CRILLY
God knows how many he has stuck.
ALBERT
Well, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything.
CRILLY
Albert, you don't know how these financial things work out.
Do you think would his brother settle?
ALBERT
Settle with whom?
CRILLY
Well … with any of the … any of the people that have …
I don't know. It's a cursed town. If I had joined the police at your
age, I'd have a pension by this, and I mightn't care for any of them.