―Was he? Mr Dedalus said, returning, with fetched pipe. I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam’s …
―Ay, the Lord have mercy on him.
―By the bye there’s a tuningfork in there on the …
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
―The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What? Lidwell asked.
―O, that must be the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he was here.
Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid minagold.
―Shout! Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Sing out!
―’lldo! cried Father Cowley.
Rrrrrr.
I feel I want …
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
―Very, Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a headless sardine.
Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one lonely, last sardine of summer. Bloom alone.
―Very, he stared. The lower register, for choice.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Bloom went by Barry’s. Wish I could. Wait. That wonderworker if I had. Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Litigation. Love one another.