Page 245 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

—F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for
an alibi, Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour,
Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F.A.B.P. Got that? X is
Davy’s publichouse in upper Leeson street.

The professor came to the inner door.
—Bloom is at the telephone, he said.
—Tell him go to hell, the editor said promptly. X is
Davy’s publichouse, see?

CLEVER, VERY

—Clever, Lenehan said. Very.
—Gave it to them on a hot plate, Myles Crawford said,
the whole bloody history.
Nightmare from which you will never awake.
—I saw it, the editor said proudly. I was present. Dick
Adams, the besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever
put the breath of life in, and myself.
Lenehan bowed to a shape of air, announcing:
—Madam, I’m Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba.
—History! Myles Crawford cried. The Old Woman of
Prince’s street was there first. There was weeping and
gnashing of teeth over that. Out of an advertisement.
Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the leg

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