<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<>
  <node>
    <title>Lingard141</title>
    <Collections>Chapter 15</Collections>
    <Contributor>Lingard Estate</Contributor>
    <Coverage>1972</Coverage>
    <Creator>Linen Hall Library</Creator>
    <Date>Thursday, March 10, 2016</Date>
    <Format>TIFF</Format>
    <Identifier>Lingard141</Identifier>
    <ItemDescription>Manuscript</ItemDescription>
    <Keywords>Eejits, Stab</Keywords>
    <Language>English</Language>
    <Path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/lingard141</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/Lingard141_1.jpg</Scannedimage>
    <Source>LHL Archive</Source>
    <Transcript>﻿133

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mrs Rafferty, after her initail tirade, stood to one side and allowed
the soldiers to enter.

&quot;If you want to waste your time that’s up to you,&quot; she shouted
after them. &quot;Eejits!&quot;

Brian came and stood on the pavement beside Kevin with his thumbs tucked into his belt. His jaw moved slackly from side to side, over a wad of chewing gum. He made no
move to cross the street ti join his fat mother. Kevin glanced side-
ways at him. He turned and looked at Kevin.

&quot;Aren&#039;t you worried?&quot; asked Kevin.

&quot;What have I to be worried about?&quot;

&quot;You should know.&quot;

Brian laughed softly.

The searchers were spending longer in the Raffertys&#039; house than
in any other that they had been in. It looked to Kevin as if they
had been tipped off.

&quot;Can&#039;t trust anyone these days,&quot; said Brian, shaking his head. &quot;Boys, what a life! An informer would
look in you in the eye as easy as stab in you in the back.&quot;

&quot;I hope you&#039;re not making any insinuationslooking at me,&quot; said Kevin quietly.
&quot;I hate your guts but I wouldn&#039;t inform on you.&quot;

&quot;Expect me to believe that?&quot; Brian stuck his hands in his pocketsBrian spat his chewing gun into the gutter.

&quot;You can bBelieve whatever you like. I&#039;m not interested in what
cowards believe.&quot;

&quot;Cowards?&quot; Brian swung round, eyes blazing.

&quot;Yes, cowards. Anyone who has to bring two frhelpers to beat up
one person is yellow right to the middle.&quot;
</Transcript>
    <Type>Text</Type>
  </node>
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