he was determined to go to London, he was moved by the affectionate way
in which the old man tried to provide for his needs on the journey.

"Hap yourself well," he had said when they crossed the gangway on to the
boat. "These steamers never give you enough clothes on your bunk. I'd
put my overcoat on top of the quilt if I were you!..."

They stood for a time looking across the Lagan at the shipyard, and
talked about the possibility of Ninian Graham entering the shipbuilding
firm, and then they moved to the side of the boat that was against the
quay-wall. The hour at which the steamer was to depart was drawing near
and the number of passengers had increased. They could hear the noise of
the machinery as the cargo was lowered from the quay into the hold, and
now and then, the squealing of pigs as the drovers pushed them up the
gangways. A herd of cattle came through the sheds and stumbled in a
startled, stupid fashion on to the lower decks, while the drovers
thwacked them and shouted at them. There was a small crowd of people,
friends of passengers and casual onlookers, standing on the quay waiting
to see the ship go out, and some of them were shouting messages to their
friends. Henry had always liked to watch crowds at times such as this,
and often in Dublin, he had spent a while in Westland Row Station,
looking at the people who were going to England. He was so interested in
the crowd on the quay that he did not hear his father speaking to him.

"I want to speak to you, Henry," the old man said, and then receiving no
answer, he said again, "I want to speak to you, Henry!"

"Yes, father?" Henry answered, without looking up.

"Turn round a minute, Henry!..." He hesitated, and Henry turning round,
saw that his father was embarrassed.

"What is it, father?" he said.

"I just wanted to say something to you, Henry. You see, you're beginnin'
another life ... out of my control, if you follow me ... not that I ever
tried to boss you...."

"No, father, you've never done that. You've been awfully decent to me!"

"Ah, now, no more of that! I just wanted to say somethin' to you, only I
don't rightly know how to begin...." He fumbled for words and then, as
if making a reckless plunge, he blurted out, "Do you know much, Henry?"

"Know much?" Henry answered vaguely.

"Aye. About women an' things? Did you know any women in Dublin?"

"Oh, yes, a few!" Henry answered.

"Did ... did you have anything to do with them?"

"Any