―Here. It’s about the Creator and the soul. Rrm⁠ ⁠… rrm⁠ ⁠… rrm⁠ ⁠… Ah! without a possibility of ever approaching nearer. That’s heresy.

Stephen murmured:

―I meant without a possibility of ever reaching .

It was a submission and Mr. Tate, appeased, folded up the essay and passed it across to him, saying:

―O⁠ ⁠… Ah! ever reaching. That’s another story.

But the class was not so soon appeased. Though nobody spoke to him of the affair after class he could feel about him a vague general malignant joy.