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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 408/821
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Miss
Kennedy
served
two
gentlemen
with
tankards
of
cool
stout
.
She
passed
a
remark
.
It
was
indeed
,
first
gentleman
said
,
beautiful
weather
.
They
drank
cool
stout
.
Did
she
know
where
the
lord
lieutenant
was
going
?
And
heard
steelhoofs
ringhoof
ring
.
No
,
she
couldn
’
t
say
.
But
it
would
be
in
the
paper
.
O
,
she
need
not
trouble
.
No
trouble
.
She
waved
about
her
outspread
Independent
,
searching
,
the
lord
lieutenant
,
her
pinnacles
of
hair
slowmoving
,
lord
lieuten
.
Too
much
trouble
,
first
gentleman
said
.
O
,
not
in
the
least
.
Way
he
looked
that
.
Lord
lieutenant
.
Gold
by
bronze
heard
iron
steel
.
—
my
ardent
soul
I
care
not
foror
the
morrow
.
In
liver
gravy
Bloom
mashed
mashed
potatoes
.
Love
and
War
someone
is
.
Ben
Dollard
’
s
famous
.
Night
he
ran
round
to
us
to
borrow
a
dress
suit
for
that
concert
.
Trousers
tight
as
a
drum
on
him
.
Musical
porkers
.
Molly
did
laugh
when
he
went
out
.
Threw
herself
back
across
the
bed
,
screaming
,
kicking
.
With
all
his
belongings
on
show
.
O
saints
above
,
I
’
m
drenched
!
O
,
the
women
in
the
front
row
!
O
,
I
never
laughed
so
many
!
Well
,
of
course
that
’
s
what
gives
him
the
base
barreltone
.
For
instance
eunuchs
.
Wonder
who
’
s
playing
.
Nice
touch
.
Must
be
Cowley
.
Musical
.
Knows
whatever
note
you
play
.
Bad
breath
he
has
,
poor
chap
.
Stopped
.
Miss
Douce
,
engaging
,
Lydia
Douce
,
bowed
to
suave
solicitor
,
George
Lidwell
,
gentleman
,
entering
.
Good
afternoon
.
She
gave
her
moist
(
a
lady
’
s
)
hand
to
his
firm
clasp
.
Afternoon
.
Yes
,
she
was
back
.
To
the
old
dingdong
again
.
—
Your
friends
are
inside
,
Mr
Lidwell
.
George
Lidwell
,
suave
,
solicited
,
held
a
lydiahand
.
Bloom
ate
liv
as
said
before
.
Clean
here
at
least
.
That
chap
in
the
Burton
,
gummy
with
gristle
.
No
-
one
here
:
Goulding
and
I
.
Clean
tables
,
flowers
,
mitres
of
napkins
.
Pat
to
and
fro
.
Bald
Pat
.
Nothing
to
do
.
Best
value
in
Dub
.
Piano
again
.
Cowley
it
is
.
Way
he
sits
in
to
it
,
like
one
together
,
mutual
understanding
.
Tiresome
shapers
scraping
fiddles
,
eye
on
the
bowend
,
sawing
the
cello
,
remind
you
of
toothache
.
Her
high
long
snore
.
Night
we
were
in
the
box
.
Trombone
under
blowing
like
a
grampus
,
between
the
acts
,
other
brass
chap
unscrewing
,
emptying
spittle
.
Conductor
’
s
legs
too
,
bagstrousers
,
jiggedy
jiggedy
.
Do
right
to
hide
them
.
