Page 465 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

Bronze by gold, miss Douce’s head by miss Kennedy’s
head, over the crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the
viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel.
—Is that her? asked miss Kennedy.

Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and
eau de Nil.
—Exquisite contrast, miss Kennedy said.
When all agog miss Douce said eagerly:
—Look at the fellow in the tall silk.
—Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly.
—In the second carriage, miss Douce’s wet lips said,
laughing in the sun.
He’s looking. Mind till I see.
She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening
her face against the pane in a halo of hurried breath.
Her wet lips tittered:
—He’s killed looking back.
She laughed:
—O wept! Aren’t men frightful idiots?
With sadness.
Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light,
twining a loose hair behind an ear. Sauntering sadly, gold
no more, she twisted twined a hair.

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