Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/500

Rh I served my time and worked the mail order line for Kellett’s. Experienced hand. Every knot says a lot. Let me. In courtesy. I knelt once before today. Ah!

(Murmurs lovingly.) To be a shoefitter in Mansfield’s was my love’s young dream, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so incredibly small, of Clyde Road ladies. Even their wax model Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb toe, as worn in Paris.

Smell my hot goathide. Feel my royal weight.

(Crosslacing.) Too tight?

If you bungle, Handy Andy, I’ll kick your football for you.

Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of the bazaar dance. Bad luck. Nook in wrong tache of her… person you mentioned. That night she me… Now!

(Mumbles.) Awaiting your further orders, we remain, gentlemen…

(With a hard basilisk stare, in a baritone voice.) Hound of dishonour!

(Infatuated.) Empress!