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A man passes a day in early twentieth-century Dublin, in a journey patterned on Homer’s Odyssey.

Page 242 of 872
Table of Contents

Chapter 8

He thrust back quickly Agendath .

Afternoon she said.

I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. Freeman . Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Purse. Potato. Where did I?

Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.

His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah, soap there! Yes. Gate.

Safe!

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