―I suppose you got five, Dilly said. Give me more than that.
―Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said threateningly. You’re like the rest of them, are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. But wait awhile. You’ll all get a short shrift and a long day from me. Low blackguardism! I’m going to get rid of you. Wouldn’t care if I was stretched out stiff. He’s dead. The man upstairs is dead.
He left her and walked on. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat.
―Well, what is it? he said, stopping.
The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs.
―Barang!
―Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him.
The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his bell: but feebly:
―Bang!
Mr Dedalus stared at him.
―Watch him, he said. It’s instructive. I wonder will he allow us to talk.
―You got more than that, father, Dilly said.
―I’m going to show you a little trick, Mr Dedalus said. I’ll leave you all where Jesus left the jews. Look, that’s all I have. I got two shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the funeral.
He drew forth a handful of copper coins nervously.
―Can’t you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said.
Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.