He shot from it two crowns and two shillings.

―Three twelve, he said. I think you’ll find that’s right.

―Thank you, sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers.

―No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. You have earned it.

Stephen’s hand, free again, went back to the hollow shells. Symbols too of beauty and of power. A lump in my pocket. Symbols soiled by greed and misery.

―Don’t carry it like that, Mr Deasy said. You’ll pull it out somewhere and lose it. You just buy one of these machines. You’ll find them very handy.

Answer something.