and went out to look for jobs, couldn't find one. Again and again he was
curtly refused employment, by editors and others. Every night he came
home a little more bitter than the day before. Peter too, while he lay
mending of his breakages, received a letter from the place of business he
adorned informing him that it would not trouble him further. He had never
been much use to it; he had been taken on at Leslie's request and given a
trial; but it could not last for ever, as Peter fair-mindedly admitted.

"Well," he commented, "I suppose one must do something else, eventually.
But I shall put off reflecting on that till I can move about more
easily."

Hilary said, "We are being hounded out of London as we were hounded out
of Venice. It is unbearable. What remains?"

"Nothing, that I can see at the moment," said Peter, laughing weakly.

"Ireland," said Peggy suddenly. "Let's go there. Dublin's worth a dozen
of this hideous old black dirty place. You could get work on 'The
Nationalist,' Hilary, I do believe, for the sub-editorship's just been
given to my cousin Larry Callaghan. Come along to the poor old country,
and we'll try our luck again."

"Dublin I believe to be an unspeakable place to live in," said Hilary,
but mainly from habit. "Still, I presume one must live somewhere, so ..."

He turned to Peter. "Where shall you and Thomas live?"

Peter flushed slightly. He had supposed that he and Thomas were also to
live in the unspeakable Dublin.