The two young men walked up the street without speaking, the mournful music following them.  When they reached Stephen’s Green they crossed the road.  Here the noise of trams, the lights and the crowd released them from their silence.

“There she is!” said Corley.

At the corner of Hume Street a young woman was standing.  She wore a blue dress and a white sailor hat.  She stood on the curbstone, swinging a sunshade in one hand.  Lenehan grew lively.

“Let’s have a look at her, Corley,” he said.

Corley glanced sideways at his friend and an unpleasant grin appeared on his face.

“Are you trying to get inside me?” he asked.

“Damn it!” said Lenehan boldly, “I don’t want an introduction.  All I want is to have a look at her.  I’m not going to eat her.”

“O ...  A look at her?” said Corley, more amiably.  “Well...  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll go over and talk to her and you can pass by.”

“Right!” said Lenehan.

Corley had already thrown one leg over the chains when Lenehan called out: 

“And after?  Where will we meet?”

“Half ten,” answered Corley, bringing over his other leg.

“Where?”

“Corner of Merrion Street.  We’ll be coming back.”

“Work it all right now,” said Lenehan in farewell.

Corley did not answer.  He sauntered across the road swaying his head from side to side.  His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them.  He approached the young woman and, without saluting, began at once to converse with her.  She swung her umbrella more quickly and executed half turns on her heels.  Once or twice when he spoke to her at close quarters she laughed and bent her head.

Lenehan observed them for a few minutes.  Then he walked rapidly along beside the chains at some distance and crossed the road obliquely.  As he approached Hume Street corner he found the air heavily scented and his eyes made a swift anxious scrutiny of the young woman’s appearance.  She had her Sunday finery on.  Her blue serge skirt was held at the waist by a belt of black leather.  The great silver buckle of her belt seemed to depress the centre of her body, catching the light stuff of her white blouse like a clip.  She wore a short black jacket with mother-of-pearl buttons and a ragged black boa.  The ends of her tulle collarette had been carefully disordered and a big bunch of red flowers was pinned in her bosom stems upwards.  Lenehan’s eyes noted approvingly her stout short muscular body. rank rude health glowed in her face, on her fat red cheeks and in her unabashed blue eyes.  Her features were blunt.  She had broad nostrils, a straggling mouth which lay open in a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth.  As he passed Lenehan took off his cap and, after about ten seconds, Corley returned a salute to the air.  This he did by raising his hand vaguely and pensively changing the angle of position of his hat.