Улисс

           Healwayswalksoutsidethelampposts.Watch!

           —Whoisheifit’safairquestion?MrsBreenasked.Ishedotty?

           —HisnameisCashelBoyleO’ConnorFitzmauriceTisdallFarrell,MrBloomsaidsmiling.Watch!

           —Hehasenoughofthem,shesaid.Deniswillbelikethatoneofthesedays.

           Shebrokeoffsuddenly.

           —Thereheis,shesaid.Imustgoafterhim.Goodbye.RemembermetoMolly,won’tyou?

           —Iwill,MrBloomsaid.

           Hewatchedherdodgethroughpasserstowardstheshopfronts.DenisBreeninskimpyfrockcoatandbluecanvasshoesshuffledoutofHarrison’shuggingtwoheavytomestohisribs.Blowninfromthebay.Likeoldtimes.Hesufferedhertoovertakehimwithoutsurpriseandthrusthisdullgreybeardtowardsher,hisloosejawwaggingashespokeearnestly.

           Meshuggah.Offhischump.

           MrBloomwalkedonagaineasily,seeingaheadofhiminsunlightthetightskullpiece,thedanglingstickumbrelladustcoat.Goingthetwodays.Watchhim!Outhegoesagain.Onewayofgettingonintheworld.Andthatotheroldmoseylunaticinthoseduds.Hardtimeshemusthavewithhim.

           U.p:up.I’lltakemyoaththat’sAlfBerganorRichieGoulding.WroteitforalarkintheScotchhouseIbetanything.RoundtoMenton’soffice.Hisoystereyesstaringatthepostcard.Beafeastforthegods.

           HepassedtheIrishTimes.Theremightbeotheranswerslyingthere.Liketoanswerthemall.Goodsystemforcriminals.Code.Attheirlunchnow.Clerkwiththeglassestheredoesn’tknowme.O,leavethemtheretosimmer.Enoughbotherwadingthroughfortyfourofthem.