Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/537

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Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour!

Hark! Our friend, noise in the street!

(Holds up her hand.) Stop!

That’s me. (She claps her hands.) Dance! Dance! (She runs to the pianola.) Who has twopence?

Who’ll…

(Handing her coins.) Here.

(Cracking his fingers impatiently.) Quick! Quick! Where’s my augur’s rod? (He runs to the piano and takes his ashplant, beating his foot in tripudium.)

(Turns the drumhandle.) There.