Улисс

           Griffith’spaperisonthesametacknow:anarmyrottenwithvenerealdisease:overseasorhalfseasoverempire.Halfbakedtheylook:hypnotisedlike.Eyesfront.Marktime.Table:able.Bed:ed.TheKing’sown.Neverseehimdressedupasafiremanorabobby.Amason,yes.

           Hestrolledoutofthepostofficeandturnedtotheright.Talk:asifthatwouldmendmatters.Hishandwentintohispocketandaforefingerfeltitswayundertheflapoftheenvelope,rippingitopeninjerks.Womenwillpayalotofheed,Idon’tthink.Hisfingersdrewforththelettertheletterandcrumpledtheenvelopeinhispocket.Somethingpinnedon:photoperhaps.Hair?No.

           M’Coy.Getridofhimquickly.Takemeoutofmyway.Hatecompanywhenyou.

           —Hello,Bloom.Whereareyouoffto?

           —Hello,M’Coy.Nowhereinparticular.

           —How’sthebody?

           —Fine.Howareyou?

           —Justkeepingalive,M’Coysaid.

           Hiseyesontheblacktieandclothesheaskedwithlowrespect:

           —Isthereany...notroubleIhope?Iseeyou’re...

           —O,no,MrBloomsaid.PoorDignam,youknow.Thefuneralistoday.

           —Tobesure,poorfellow.Soitis.Whattime?

           Aphotoitisn’t.Abadgemaybe.

           —E...eleven,MrBloomanswered.

           —Imusttrytogetoutthere,M’Coysaid.Eleven,isit?Ionlyhearditlastnight.Whowastellingme?Holohan.YouknowHoppy?

           —Iknow.

           MrBloomgazedacrosstheroadattheoutsiderdrawnupbeforethedooroftheGrosvenor.Theporterhoistedthevaliseuponthewell.Shestoodstill,waiting,whiletheman,husband,brother,likeher,searchedhispocketsforchange.