Page 545 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising
of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark,
the ruddy and the ethiop.
—What’s that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen,

prowling up and down outside?
—What’s that? says Joe.
—Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino.
Talking about hanging, I’ll show you something you
never saw. Hangmen’s letters. Look at here.
So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes
out of his pocket.
—Are you codding? says I.
—Honest injun, says Alf. Read them.
So Joe took up the letters.
—Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.
So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob’s a
queer chap when the porter’s up in him so says I just to
make talk:
—How’s Willy Murray those times, Alf?
—I don’t know, says Alf I saw him just now in Capel
street with Paddy Dignam. Only I was running after that
...
—You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With
who?

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