"Mikey's companion was introduced as J. J. Gilhooley Senior, former doctor to the town, his son the present incumbent. He was a gnarled old wrinkle with playful eyes and a dicky bow. His bulbous nose was purple and heavily veined, the imprimatur of an habitual spirits drinker. 'Poor Patch was forever trying to offload that bit of land by the river,' he said of their fallen comrade. The "for sale" sign is all but bald at this stage of the proceedings.'
'Is the land no good?' Ruth asked. 'Is it swampy?'
They looked upon her with something akin to pity.
'All land is good,' Mikey said. 'Sure couldn't you run a duck farm on it and it marshy, or raise plants that love the wet and sell them on to garden centres and the like? Land is never wasted or bad.'"
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