Se viene el triunfo de Evelyn, en el Antro lo celebramos releyendo el cuento homónimo de James Joyce:
SHE sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against thewindow curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footstepsclacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the newred houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening withother people's children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it--not liketheir little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue usedto play together in that field --the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she andher brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used oftento hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nixand call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Herfather was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and herbrothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and theWaters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like theothers, to leave her home.Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once aweek for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would neversee again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided. And yetduring all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photographhung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made toBlessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showedthe photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word:"He is in Melbourne now."She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side ofthe question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known allher life about her. O course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What wouldthey say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she wasa fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. Shehad always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening."Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?""Look lively, Miss Hill, please."She would not cry many tears at leaving the Stores.