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

Page 459 of 872
Table of Contents

Chapter 12

mortgagee can’t recover on the policy.

―Holy Wars, says Joe laughing, that’s a good one if old Shylock is landed. So the wife comes out top dog, what?

―Well, that’s a point, says Bloom, for the wife’s admirers.

―Whose admirers? says Joe.

―The wife’s advisers, I mean, says Bloom.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about the mortgagor under the act like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the mortgagee’s right till he near had the head of me addled with his mortgagor under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn’t run in himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. True as you’re there. O, commend me to an israelite! Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery.

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