Улисс

           Quaffingnectaratmesswithgodsgoldendishes,allambrosial.Notlikeatannerlunchwehave,boiledmutton,carrotsandturnips,bottleofAllsop.Nectarimagineitdrinkingelectricity:gods’food.LovelyformsofwomensculpedJunonian.Immortallovely.Andwestuffingfoodinoneholeandoutbehind:food,chyle,blood,dung,earth,food:havetofeeditlikestokinganengine.Theyhaveno.Neverlooked.I’lllooktoday.Keeperwon’tsee.Benddownletsomethingfallseeifshe.

           Dribblingaquietmessagefromhisbladdercametogotodonottodotheretodo.Amanandreadyhedrainedhisglasstotheleesandwalked,tomentootheygavethemselves,manlyconscious,laywithmenlovers,ayouthenjoyedher,totheyard.

           WhenthesoundofhisbootshadceasedDavyByrnesaidfromhisbook:

           —Whatisthisheis?Isn’theintheinsuranceline?

           —He’soutofthatlongago,NoseyFlynnsaid.HedoescanvassingfortheFreeman.

           —Iknowhimwelltosee,DavyByrnesaid.Isheintrouble?

           —Trouble?NoseyFlynnsaid.NotthatIheardof.Why?

           —Inoticedhewasinmourning.

           —Washe?NoseyFlynnsaid.Sohewas,faith.Iaskedhimhowwasallathome.You’reright,byGod.Sohewas.

           —Ineverbroachthesubject,DavyByrnesaidhumanely,ifIseeagentlemanisintroublethatway.Itonlybringsitupfreshintheirminds.

           —It’snotthewifeanyhow,NoseyFlynnsaid.ImethimthedaybeforeyesterdayandhecomingoutofthatIrishfarmdairyJohnWyseNolan’swifehasinHenrystreetwithajarofcreaminhishandtakingithometohisbetterhalf.She’swellnourished,Itellyou.