Page 485 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

Miss Douce’s brave eyes, unregarded, turned from the
crossblind, smitten by sunlight. Gone. Pensive (who
knows?), smitten (the smiting light), she lowered the
dropblind with a sliding cord. She drew down pensive

(why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronze, over
the bar where bald stood by sister gold, inexquisite
contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim
seagreen sliding depth of shadow, eau de Nil.
—Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night, Father
Cowley reminded them. There was a slight difference of
opinion between himself and the Collard grand.
There was.
—A symposium all his own, Mr Dedalus said. The
devil wouldn’t stop him. He was a crotchety old fellow in
the primary stage of drink.
—God, do you remember? Ben bulky Dollard said,
turning from the punished keyboard. And by Japers I had
no wedding garment.
They laughed all three. He had no wed. All trio
laughed. No wedding garment.
—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr
Dedalus said. Where’s my pipe, by the way?

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