![]() That was a long time ago she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead. Her father was not so bad then and besides, her mother was alive. ![]() Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field – the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. ![]() Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it – not like their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people’s children. ![]() ![]() The man out of the last house passed on his way home she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. She cannot let go of the past, as the early sections of the story reveal: The way that final triplet builds out from love to farewell to recognition (what, she now doesn’t even recognise him?) is a masterstroke on Joyce’s part. ![]()
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