That morning Dangerfield picked up from his front hall strewn with bills, a picture postcard of the Lakes of Killarney with an inset, a poem. My heart is yearning For that familiar scene Of those dear blue lakes In that land far and green. Turning it over. I am kaput Meet me in Jury's lounge, Wednesday, seven. Duke of SERUTAN (ret) Dangerfield rode the roaring tram to Dublin. At the bottom of Dawson Street he swung gingerly from the screeching instrument Moving swiftly, face deflected to the left to look in shop windows and avoid eyes. In Brown and Nolans here, I see they have some beautiful books, so nice never have to look in them. That's the way it ought to be, saves time. Received correspondence from this fine firm. Polite. Not like the others. They say perhaps dear sir you have overlooked such a small amount or would like us to bill you yearly. Yes, yearly I told them. My, time flies. There's a lovely smell in the door of this restaurant Look at them in there, wealthy happy people.
