Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently.

―Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?

―I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from west, sir?

―I am an Englishman, Haines answered.

―He’s English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland.

―Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I’m ashamed I don’t speak the language myself. I’m told it’s a grand language by them that knows.

―Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma’am?

―No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the milkcan on her forearm and about to go.

Haines said to her: