Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chips, picking chips off one of his rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled.

―O welcome back, Miss Douce.

He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays?

―Tiptop.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

―Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand all day.

Bronze whiteness.

―That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.