Page 443 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

John Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and
it will cost me a fall if I don’t ... Wait awhile ... We’re on
the right lay, Bob, believe you me.
—For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said

anxiously.
Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a
dangling button of his coat wagging brightbacked from its
thread as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged
his eyes to hear aright.
—What few days? he boomed. Hasn’t your landlord
distrained for rent?
—He has, Father Cowley said.
—Then our friend’s writ is not worth the paper it’s
printed on, Ben Dollard said. The landlord has the prior
claim. I gave him all the particulars. 29 Windsor avenue.
Love is the name?
—That’s right, Father Cowley said. The reverend Mr
Love. He’s a minister in the country somewhere. But are
you sure of that?
—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said,
that he can put that writ where Jacko put the nuts.
He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his
bulk.

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