"This - Irish Swine - insulting - the priest-" Mr Mooney nodded, shocked, and hit me a blow in the face, without taking his attention from Mr Millburn, and Mr Johnson came up as they shoved me towards the stairs leading up to the landing, and they told him, Mister Millburn and Mister Mooney, "This - Irish - insulted priest - bloody bastard" - not the priest, me, and Mister Johnson, though not a catholic, but a protestant and wouldn't bloody well stand for that all the same, insulting any clergyman, any priest even, and especially Father Lane, decent man beloved of all and spending his time working for the prisoners. "You fughing shit-house, we'll teach you 'ow to be'ave, you dirty Irish fugh-pig," and, grunt and push, I fell a couple of times on the iron steps on the way up to the landing. "Wait till we get you up there in the cell - now by christ we'll - ge-eht up, there, you bastard, you Irish ----!"
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