―She was a daughter of⁠ ⁠…

―Daughter of the regiment.

―Yes, begad. I remember the old drummajor.

Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after

―Irish? I don’t know, faith. Is she, Simon?

Puff after stiff, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.

―Buccinator muscle is⁠ ⁠… What?⁠ ⁠… Bit rusty⁠ ⁠… O, she is⁠ ⁠… My Irish Molly, O.

He puffed a pungent plumy blast.

―From the rock of Gibraltar⁠ ⁠… all the way.

They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two, Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent.