Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the unnaturally loud rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds.

A steamer hooted far away down the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring nuns to prayer.

Hyacinth grew desperate.

Could he go home, back to the fishing-boats and simple people of Carrowkeel?
A great desire for the old scenes seized upon him.

He fought against it with all his might.