The sanitary officer was coming down the main street of Kilmurrage at a sharp trot. He was coming from the post office with the mail, and letters and newspapers were sticking from the pockets of his threadbare grey tweed suit. His boots scratched along the road as he ran, and he kept cursing to himself and pulling at his stiff linen collar with his hand, so that there was a black smudge under his right ear. Now and again he stopped to take out his large silver watch and look at it. Then he put it back, scratched the back of his head and looked at the letter that he held in his right hand. ‘Damn and blast this letter,’ he would say, and trot on again. He was a thin, pale-faced man of middle age, and a very common-looking man except for his shifty blue eyes and the funny way he had of sniffing and twisting the end of his long sharp nose from side to side when he sniffed.
KeywordsFront Door Side Table Collect Story Parish Priest Vegetable Dish
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