Uncle Charles smoked such black twist that at last his nephew suggested to him to enjoy his morning smoke in a little outhouse at the end of the garden.
―Very good, Simon. All serene, Simon, said the old man tranquilly. Anywhere you like. The outhouse will do me nicely: it will be more salubrious.
―Damn me, said Mr. Dedalus frankly, if I know how you can smoke such villainous awful tobacco. It’s like gunpowder, by God.
―It’s very nice, Simon, replied the old man. Very cool and mollifying.