And 'tis the wonderful gift to
have surely. A man that could write like you should
be a secretary to the Lord Lieutenant himself, or
writin' sermons for the Pope of Rome.
DEVLIN
Now, no more old palaver, talk is cheap, but it takes
money to buy whiskey. Look as smart as you can
(_hands letter_), and deliver this letter before it's too
late. There's nothin' like doin' things with despatch
when you're in a hurry. Wait, your face is none too
clean. Where's your handkerchief? _(Hands him an
old dirty handkerchief. He drains the dregs of a pewter
pint on the handkerchief, and wipes his face with it.
Then he looks at Falvey's boots_) Glory be to God!
but you're a very careless man! When did you clean
these boots last?
FALVEY
Wisha, who could keep boots clean upon the dirty
roads.
[_Takes off his old hat and wipes his boots with it_
DEVLIN
That's better. Now take off that old tie, and I'll
give you mine. But you must return it to me when
you get the job. It belonged to my grandfather, and
it always brought luck to the family.
[_They exchange ties, and Devlin's toilet is completed by
brushing the legs of his old trousers with a sweeping
brush._
DEVLIN _(looking at him approvingly)_
If you always kept yourself as respectable lookin' as
that, you would never want for work, I'm thinkin'.
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