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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 164/821
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The
foreman
moved
his
pencil
towards
it
.
—
But
wait
,
Mr
Bloom
said
.
He
wants
it
changed
.
Keyes
,
you
see
.
He
wants
two
keys
at
the
top
.
Hell
of
a
racket
they
make
.
He
doesn
’
t
hear
it
.
Nannan
.
Iron
nerves
.
Maybe
he
understands
what
I
.
The
foreman
turned
round
to
hear
patiently
and
,
lifting
an
elbow
,
began
to
scratch
slowly
in
the
armpit
of
his
alpaca
jacket
.
—
Like
that
,
Mr
Bloom
said
,
crossing
his
forefingers
at
the
top
.
Let
him
take
that
in
first
.
Mr
Bloom
,
glancing
sideways
up
from
the
cross
he
had
made
,
saw
the
foreman
’
s
sallow
face
,
think
he
has
a
touch
of
jaundice
,
and
beyond
the
obedient
reels
feeding
in
huge
webs
of
paper
.
Clank
it
.
Clank
it
.
Miles
of
it
unreeled
.
What
becomes
of
it
after
?
O
,
wrap
up
meat
,
parcels
:
various
uses
,
thousand
and
one
things
.
Slipping
his
words
deftly
into
the
pauses
of
the
clanking
he
drew
swiftly
on
the
scarred
woodwork
.
HOUSE
OF
KEY
(
E
)
S
—
Like
that
,
see
.
Two
crossed
keys
here
.
A
circle
.
Then
here
the
name
.
Alexander
Keyes
,
tea
,
wine
and
spirit
merchant
.
So
on
.
