―We’ll owe twopence, he said.
―Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning, sir.
She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan’s tender chant:
―Heart of my heart, were it more, More would be laid at your feet.
He turned to Stephen and said:
―Seriously, Dedalus. I’m stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland expects that every man this day will do his duty.
―That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your national library today.
―Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said.
He turned to Stephen and asked blandly:
―Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch?
Then he said to Haines:
―The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.
―All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey trickle over a slice of the loaf.
Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke:
―I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me.