Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/122

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

       What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still : tram :
something I forgot. Just to see before dressing. No. Here. No.
       A sudden screech of laughter came from the Evening Telegraph office.
Know who that is. What’s up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned Lambert it is.
       He entered softly.


        The ghost walks, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to
the dusty windowpane.
       Mr Dedalus, staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert’s quizzing
face, asked of it sourly :
        Agonising Christ, wouldn’t it give you a heartburn on your arse?
       Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on :
        Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its way,
fanned by gentlest zephyrs tho’ quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling
waters of Neptune’s blue domain, mid mossy banks, played on by the glorious sunlight
or ’neath the shadows cast o’er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the
giants of the forest. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of his
newspaper. How’s that for high?
        Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said.
       Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating :
        The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage. O boys! O boys!
        And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Dedalus said, looking again
on the fireplace and to the window, and Marathon looked on the sea.
        That will do, professor MacHugh cried from the window. I don’t want
to hear any more of the stuff.
       He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and,
hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.
       High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see. Rather
upsets a man’s day a funeral does. He has influence they say. Old Chatterton,
the vice-chancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they
say. Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps. Living to spite
them. Might go first himself. Johnny, make room for your uncle. The right
honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky
cheque or two on gale days. Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia.
        Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said.