Page 809 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per
usual with your cock and bull story.
BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I
came to be here. But you must never tell. Not even

Molly. I have a most particular reason.
MRS BREEN: (All agog) O, not for worlds.
BLOOM: Let’s walk on. Shall us?
MRS BREEN: Let’s.
(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with
Mrs Breen. The terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his
tail.)
THE BAWD: Jewman’s melt!
BLOOM: (In an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine
in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd’s plaid Saint Andrew’s
cross scarftie, white spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red
brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a grey billycock hat) Do
you remember a long long time, years and years ago, just
after Milly, Marionette we called her, was weaned when
we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was it?
MRS BREEN: (In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours
hat and spider veil) Leopardstown.
BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won
seven shillings on a three year old named Nevertell and
coming home along by Foxrock in that old fiveseater

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