Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/430

Rh mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius Moses, the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, Dancer Moses was her name, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across…

(Eagerly.) Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

(Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout.) And when Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver Street what was he after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there waiting on the shavings for Derwan's plasterers.

(Guffaw with cleft palates.) O jays!

Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad daylight. Trying to walk. Lucky no woman.

Jays, that's a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the men's porter.