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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 174/821
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—
O
!
Mr
Dedalus
cried
,
giving
vent
to
a
hopeless
groan
.
Shite
and
onions
!
That
’
ll
do
,
Ned
.
Life
is
too
short
.
He
took
off
his
silk
hat
and
,
blowing
out
impatiently
his
bushy
moustache
,
welshcombed
his
hair
with
raking
fingers
.
Ned
Lambert
tossed
the
newspaper
aside
,
chuckling
with
delight
.
An
instant
after
a
hoarse
bark
of
laughter
burst
over
professor
MacHugh
’
s
unshaven
blackspectacled
face
.
—
Doughy
Daw
!
he
cried
.
WHAT
WETHERUP
SAID
All
very
fine
to
jeer
at
it
now
in
cold
print
but
it
goes
down
like
hot
cake
that
stuff
.
He
was
in
the
bakery
line
too
,
wasn
’
t
he
?
Why
they
call
him
Doughy
Daw
.
Feathered
his
nest
well
anyhow
.
Daughter
engaged
to
that
chap
in
the
inland
revenue
office
with
the
motor
.
Hooked
that
nicely
.
Entertainments
.
Open
house
.
Big
blowout
.
Wetherup
always
said
that
.
Get
a
grip
of
them
by
the
stomach
.
The
inner
door
was
opened
violently
and
a
scarlet
beaked
face
,
crested
by
a
comb
of
feathery
hair
,
thrust
itself
in
.
The
bold
blue
eyes
stared
about
them
and
the
harsh
voice
asked
:
—
What
is
it
?
—
And
here
comes
the
sham
squire
himself
!
professor
MacHugh
said
grandly
.
—
Getonouthat
,
you
bloody
old
pedagogue
!
the
editor
said
in
recognition
.
