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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Улисс
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- Стр. 471/821
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—
Hope
so
,
says
Ned
.
Now
what
were
those
two
at
?
J
.
J
.
getting
him
off
the
grand
jury
list
and
the
other
give
him
a
leg
over
the
stile
.
With
his
name
in
Stubbs
’
s
.
Playing
cards
,
hobnobbing
with
flash
toffs
with
a
swank
glass
in
their
eye
,
adrinking
fizz
and
he
half
smothered
in
writs
and
garnishee
orders
.
Pawning
his
gold
watch
in
Cummins
of
Francis
street
where
no
-
one
would
know
him
in
the
private
office
when
I
was
there
with
Pisser
releasing
his
boots
out
of
the
pop
.
What
’
s
your
name
,
sir
?
Dunne
,
says
he
.
Ay
,
and
done
says
I
.
Gob
,
he
’
ll
come
home
by
weeping
cross
one
of
those
days
,
I
’
m
thinking
.
—
Did
you
see
that
bloody
lunatic
Breen
round
there
?
says
Alf
.
U
.
p
:
up
.
—
Yes
,
says
J
.
J
.
Looking
for
a
private
detective
.
—
Ay
,
says
Ned
.
And
he
wanted
right
go
wrong
to
address
the
court
only
Corny
Kelleher
got
round
him
telling
him
to
get
the
handwriting
examined
first
.
—
Ten
thousand
pounds
,
says
Alf
,
laughing
.
God
,
I
’
d
give
anything
to
hear
him
before
a
judge
and
jury
.
—
Was
it
you
did
it
,
Alf
?
says
Joe
.
The
truth
,
the
whole
truth
and
nothing
but
the
truth
,
so
help
you
Jimmy
Johnson
.
—
Me
?
says
Alf
.
Don
’
t
cast
your
nasturtiums
on
my
character
.
—
Whatever
statement
you
make
,
says
Joe
,
will
be
taken
down
in
evidence
against
you
.
