Who is G.C.?' answered Miss Ivors, turning her eyes upon him.
Gabriel coloured and was about to knit his brows, as if he did not understand, when she said bluntly:
`O, innocent Amy! I have found out that you write for The Daily Express. Now, aren't you ashamed of yourself?'
`Why should I be ashamed of myself?' asked Gabriel, blinking his eyes and trying to smile.
`Well, I'm ashamed of you,' said Miss Ivors frankly. `To say you'd write for a paper like that. I didn't think you were a West Briton.'
A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel's face. It was true that he wrote a literary column every Wednesday in The Daily Express, for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him a West Briton surely.
--from Joyce's "The Dead"