“In Boston he met a pretty lady, fat and forty, but beautiful with the bloom of cash and collateral.”

“I had never met these solicitors and never met Divney but they were really all working for me and my father had paid in cash for these arrangements before he died. When I was younger I thought he was a generous man to do that for a boy he did not know well.”

“happeinefs, what is it? lady, difterbed in her Bed, your thoughts of it?”

“Supposing you are a lady so completely dumb that the dogs in the street do not think you are worth growling at.”

“We were in an entirely other field by this time and in the company of white-coloured brown-coloured cows. They watched us quietly as we made a path between them and changed their attitudes slowly as if to show us all of the maps on their fat sides. They gave us to understand that they knew us personally and thought a lot of our families and I lifted my hat to the last of them as I passed her as a sign of my appreciation.”

“I would not hurt you, little man,' he said.'I think that I got the disorder in Mullingar,' I explained. I knew that I had gained his confidence and that the danger of violence was now passed. He then did something which took me by surprise. He pulled up his own ragged trouser and showed me his own left leg. It was smooth, shapely and fairly fat but it was made of wood also.'That is a funny coincidence,' I said. I now perceived the reason for his sudden change of attitude.'You are a sweet man,' he responded, 'and I would not lay a finger on your personality. I am the captain of all the one-legged men in the country. I knew them all up to now except one—your own self—and that one is now also my friend into the same bargain. If any man looks at you sideways, I will rip his belly.''That is very friendly talk,' I said.'Wide open,' he said, making a wide movement with his hands. 'If you are ever troubled, send for me and I will save you from the woman.''Women I have no interest in at all,' I said smiling. 'A fiddle is a better thing for diversion.''It does not matter. If your perplexity is an army or a dog, I will come with all the one-leggèd men and rip the bellies. My real name is Martin Finnucane.''It is a reasonable name,' I assented.'Martin Finnucane,' he repeated, listening to his own voice as if he were listening to the sweetest music in the world.”

“This benign property of his prose is not, one hopes, to be attributed to the reason noticed by the eccentric du Garbandier, who said 'the beauty of reading a page of de Selby is that it leads one inescapably to the happy conviction that one is not, of all nincompoops, the greatest'.”