Page 162 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

wheel itself much handier? Well but that fellow would
lose his job then? Well but then another fellow would get
a job making the new invention?
Antient concert rooms. Nothing on there. A man in a

buff suit with a crape armlet. Not much grief there.
Quarter mourning. People in law perhaps.
They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark’s, under
the railway bridge, past the Queen’s theatre: in silence.
Hoardings: Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer.
Could I go to see LEAH tonight, I wonder. I said I. Or
the Lily of Killarney? Elster Grimes Opera Company. Big
powerful change. Wet bright bills for next week. Fun on
the Bristol. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the
Gaiety. Have to stand a drink or two. As broad as it’s long.
He’s coming in the afternoon. Her songs.
Plasto’s. Sir Philip Crampton’s memorial fountain bust.
Who was he?
—How do you do? Martin Cunningham said, raising
his palm to his brow in salute.
—He doesn’t see us, Mr Power said. Yes, he does.
How do you do?
—Who? Mr Dedalus asked.
—Blazes Boylan, Mr Power said. There he is airing his
quiff.

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