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  <updated>2026-05-14T12:50:08+01:00</updated>
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    <email>niwa@bt48.com</email>
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  <entry>
    <id>950</id>
    <title>Lingard105</title>
    <updated>Tuesday, September 6, 2016 - 10:51</updated>
    <link href="https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/node/%25/atom"/>
    <collections>Chapter 11</collections>
    <contributor>Lingard Estate</contributor>
    <coverage>1972</coverage>
    <creator>Linen Hall Library</creator>
    <date>Thursday, March 10, 2016</date>
    <format>TIFF</format>
    <identifier>Lingard105</identifier>
    <itemdescription>Manuscript</itemdescription>
    <keywords>Barricades, Catholic</keywords>
    <language>English</language>
    <path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/lingard105</path>
    <publisher>Linen Hall Library</publisher>
    <relation>Linen Hall Library</relation>
    <rights>Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA</rights>
    <scannedimage>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Lingard105_1.jpg</scannedimage>
    <source>LHL Archive</source>
    <transcript>﻿97

Kevin look up at the man.

&quot;I think I should take you now, don&#039;t you?&quot;

Kevin nodded, tried to rise, collapsed at the knees. The man
put his armshands under his armpits and helped him on to his feet.

&quot;Now lean on me and take it easy, and you&#039;ll be all right.&quot;

They moved slowly along the path. Kevin&#039;s legs felt like candles
beneath him.

&quot;Where do you live, boy?&quot;

Kevin hesitated. He knew the man was a Protestant: one could always
tell How? Really? Unexplainable when you had been brought up to tellknow the difference at a distance
of fifty yards. The man might not want to bring his car into Kevin&#039;s
street, past barricades and army patrols.

&quot;I&#039;m a Catholic,&quot; he said.

&quot;And I&#039;m not,&quot; said the man. &quot;But if you think that means I&#039;m
going to drop you by the side of the river you&#039;ve another think coming&#039;

&quot;But I live in a troubled area. You don&#039;t have to take me right
into it.&quot;

&quot;Well, we&#039;ll see about that when we get there,&quot; said the man
cheerfully. He looked back at his dog and whistled to him. &quot;What&#039;s
your name, boy?&quot;

&quot;Kevin.&quot;

&quot;Pight, Kevin, a few more yards, and we&#039;ll be there.&quot;

&quot;Kevin! Kevin!&quot; Sadie&#039;s voice reached Kevin; it was, loud, almost frantic.

Kevin stopped. She had come!

&quot;She&#039;s come,&quot; he said
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    <updateddate>Tuesday, September 6, 2016 - 10:51</updateddate>
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