He turned to Dante and said:
―You didn’t stir out at all, Mrs. Riordan?
Dante frowned and said shortly:
―No.
Mr. Dedalus dropped his coat tails and went over to the sideboard. He brought forth a great stone jar of whisky from the locker and filled the decanter slowly, bending now and then to see how much he had poured in. Then replacing the jar in the locker he poured a little of the whisky into two glasses, added a little water and came back with them to the fireplace.
―A thimbleful, John, he said, just to whet your appetite.
Mr. Casey took the glass, drank, and placed it near him on the mantelpiece. Then he said:
―Well, I can’t help thinking of our friend Christopher manufacturing …
He broke into a fit of laughter and coughing and added:
― … manufacturing that champagne for those fellows.
Mr. Dedalus laughed loudly.
―Is it Christy? he said. There’s more cunning in one of those warts on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes.
He inclined his head, closed his eyes, and, licking his lips profusely, began to speak with the voice of the hotel keeper.