He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ah, the
soap I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his
handkerchief he took out the soap and stowed it away, buttoned, into the
hip pocket of his trousers.

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.


ERIN, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA


--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, THO' QUARRELLING WITH THE STONY OBSTACLES, TO THE TUMBLING WATERS