Brinsley MacNamara,
The Valley of Squinting Windows
“ They are just opening up at Brannagan's as he goes past. The sleepy-looking barmaid has come to the newly-opened door, and makes an ungraceful gesture in gathering up her ugly dishevelled hair. A lout of a lad with a dirty cigarette in his mouth appears suddenly. They begin to grin at one another in foolish rapture, for it is a lovers' meeting. Through the doorway at which they stand the smell of stale porter is already assaulting the freshness of the morning. They enter the bar surreptitiously and John Brennan can hear the swish of a pint in the glass in which it is being filled. ”
