of the medical analysis involved.
―Have a shot at it now, he ventured to say of the coffee after being stirred. Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it, Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the brown puddle—it clopped out of it when taken up—by the handle and took a sip of the offending beverage.
―Still, it’s solid food, his good genius urged, I’m a stickler for solid food, his one and only reason being not gormandising in the least but regular meals as the sine qua non for any kind of proper work, mental or manual. You ought to eat more solid food. You would feel a different man.
―Liquids I can eat, Stephen said. But oblige me by taking away that knife. I can’t look at the point of it. It reminds me of Roman history.
Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, a blunt hornhandled ordinary knife with nothing particularly Roman or antique about it to the lay eye, observing that the point was the least conspicuous point about it.