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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 419/821
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Yet
too
much
happy
bores
.
He
stretched
more
,
more
.
Are
you
not
happy
in
your
?
Twang
.
It
snapped
.
Jingle
into
Dorset
street
.
Miss
Douce
withdrew
her
satiny
arm
,
reproachful
,
pleased
.
—
Don
’
t
make
half
so
free
,
said
she
,
till
we
are
better
acquainted
.
George
Lidwell
told
her
really
and
truly
:
but
she
did
not
believe
.
First
gentleman
told
Mina
that
was
so
.
She
asked
him
was
that
so
.
And
second
tankard
told
her
so
.
That
that
was
so
.
Miss
Douce
,
miss
Lydia
,
did
not
believe
:
miss
Kennedy
,
Mina
,
did
not
believe
:
George
Lidwell
,
no
:
miss
Dou
did
not
:
the
first
,
the
first
:
gent
with
the
tank
:
believe
,
no
,
no
:
did
not
,
miss
Kenn
:
Lidlydiawell
:
the
tank
.
Better
write
it
here
.
Quills
in
the
postoffice
chewed
and
twisted
.
Bald
Pat
at
a
sign
drew
nigh
.
A
pen
and
ink
.
He
went
.
A
pad
.
He
went
.
A
pad
to
blot
.
He
heard
,
deaf
Pat
.
—
Yes
,
Mr
Bloom
said
,
teasing
the
curling
catgut
line
.
It
certainly
is
.
Few
lines
will
do
.
My
present
.
All
that
Italian
florid
music
is
.
Who
is
this
wrote
?
Know
the
name
you
know
better
.
Take
out
sheet
notepaper
,
envelope
:
unconcerned
.
It
’
s
so
characteristic
.
