upon the palm of the other hand, scarcely touching it lightly. But the
pressure of her fingers had been lighter and steadier: and suddenly the
memory of their touch traversed his brain and body like an invisible
wave.

A boy came towards them, running along under the shed. He was excited
and breathless.

--O, Dedalus, he cried, Doyle is in a great bake about you. You're to
go in at once and get dressed for the play. Hurry up, you better.

--He's coming now, said Heron to the messenger with a haughty drawl,
when he wants to.

The boy turned to Heron and repeated:

--But Doyle is in an awful bake.

--Will you tell Doyle with my best compliments that I damned his eyes?
answered Heron.

--Well, I must go now, said Stephen, who cared little for such points
of honour.

--I wouldn't, said Heron, damn me if I would. That's no way to send
for one of the senior boys. In a bake, indeed! I think it's quite
enough that you're taking a part in his bally old play.

This spirit of quarrelsome comradeship which he had observed lately in
his rival had not seduced Stephen from his habits of quiet obedience.