turning.
―Do, for Jesus’ sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our sakes.
His head disappeared and reappeared.
―I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it’s very clever. Touch him for a quid, will you? A guinea, I mean.
―I get paid this morning, Stephen said.
―The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one.
―If you want it, Stephen said.
―Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We’ll have a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent sovereigns.
He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out