Page 841 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

a lighted house, listening. The kisses, winging from their bowers
fly about him, twittering, warbling, cooing.)
THE KISSES: (Warbling) Leo! (Twittering) Icky licky

micky sticky for Leo! (Cooing) Coo coocoo! Yummyyum,
Womwom! (Warbling) Big comebig! Pirouette!
Leopopold! (Twittering) Leeolee! (Warbling) O Leo!
(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddy
flecks, silvery sequins.)
BLOOM: A man’s touch. Sad music. Church music.
Perhaps here.
(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with
three bronze buckles, a slim black velvet fillet round her throat,
nods, trips down the steps and accosts him.)
ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He’s inside with
his friend.
BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack’s?
ZOE: No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen’s. You might go
farther and fare worse. Mother Slipperslapper. (Familiarly)
She’s on the job herself tonight with the vet her tipster
that gives her all the winners and pays for her son in
Oxford. Working overtime but her luck’s turned today.
(Suspiciously) You’re not his father, are you?
BLOOM: Not I!

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