―Of the offence to me, Stephen answered.

Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.

―O, an impossible person! he exclaimed.

He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now grew dim. Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt the fever of his cheeks.

A voice within the tower called loudly:

―Are you up there, Mulligan?

―I’m coming, Buck Mulligan answered.

He turned towards Stephen and said:

―Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola, Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.