|1— wanted to get him away before Bloom came back for the next round & he took him by the arm
— Come on, Michael. Come where the boose is cheaper.
— His country! says Cusack. Is it a bloody jew? |1He's a wolf in sheep's clothing1| |1His country no man's land1| is |1no man's land His country1|.
— Hath not a jew eyes? says O'Madden Burke.
He's one of those literary fellows |1buys secondhand books1| always coming out with a bit of from Shakespr or the Melodies about Ireland a nation. Know what I mean? Gentleman, patriot & scholar |1and and a1| judge of malt.
— Well, says JJ O'Molloy, if you grant |1him the jew1| human impulses like ours why could can he not love his country? I mean, logically, why not?
— Why not? says young Dedalus, when he is quite sure which country it is.
Old MacHugh began laughing and says he, settling his specs
“That's Gallic” says he
“They do those
things Paris did that for you” The young chap stood another.
“Talking about Gaelic” says Ned “you should see our friend
chopping up raw onions for the missus for her complexion the time he was in
in the knacker's yard
then.1| They were
staying up in the City
Arms hotel in Prussia street next the cattle market” “O, don't tell me, says N “Gaffney was stopping there. |1He gives a great — of the two of them chewing the fat. Bloom with his but don't you see and but |aif you consider on the other handa| and the wife screeching his head off. She's a bloody awful bitch, by all accounts.” “O I don't know about that” says Ned “She was the handsomest girl in Dublin |a— |bblackb| hair down to her middlea| in her day. I think the fault is on the other side. “How's that” “Well, Gaffney says she used to be in tears there sometimes. I don't think our friend does the trick of the loop at all1| Weren't they going to be divorced or something blank Maybe that's what they were going to be divorced for. Restitution of conjugal rights” “Still, he's very attentive to her” says —, “brings her up her grub into the bed nibbles his own bit down in the kitchen. — told me that for a fact” “Separatio |1a1| mensa et a thoro, says JJ O'Molloy
|1— Ay, says —, from bed and breakfast
— Specific performance, says J.J O'Molloy1|
Thus did they speak of her: the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. A
rocky islea| of ocean bore
her where the middle sea changes its name. There grew she to
wherea| the wafty
orange groves of
scent the air. The chaste bride of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful
1| “Arra what good is that for a woman” says — “ |1she wants something else in the bed something else in the bed she wants1| ”
— I'll tell you a bloody good one — told me. There was an old one up in the hotel, a Mrs Riordan with some money |1of her own1| and Bloom of course got inside her, |1to be the whitehaired boy |asame as he made up to his mother-in-lawa|
— Is that how he got to marry her?
— Commend me to a jewman, says —
— I see, says —, that explains
the milk in the
cocoanut & the absence of hair on the animal's
|1⇒ Doing the molly coddle,1| playing bézique with her every night |1and wouldn't eat meat on Friday because she was a bitch for religion1|. Suppose he thought he'd |1be remembered get some of the wampum1| in |1the her1| will. Anyway she had a young chap there, grandnephew of hers, and Bloom put in for giving him German lessons —
— Is he a German? says —
— I don't know what he isn't, says — One day, by God, he took the young chap out for a walking lesson but, by God, when they came back to tea he was boosed |1drunk as a boiled owl1|.
— Who? Bloom?
— No, the young fellow, |1|ablind |blimp blankb|a| to Jaysus1| laughing in their faces like a |1bloody1| fool. You should have heard the old one and Bloom's missus and the landlady. |1Roasted him, by God |aherringsa|.1| Gave him all sorts |1And Poor1| Bloom said he did it to teach him the evils of drink.
— Bloody good idea too, says —. Will you join us, P—?
— I don't mind, Joe.
— Give it a name then.
— |1Two d of stout Bottle of Alsopp1|, Terry. Here, Tim, says he, handing him the boose. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words.
|1— Which is which? says —
— That's mine, says —, taking his boose, as the devil said to the dead policeman
— After you with the push, Joe, says —1|