--Very much so, professor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He's in
his sanctum with Lenehan.

J. J. O'Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the
pink pages of the file.

Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts
of honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and
T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show the grey matter. Brains on their sleeve
like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the
EXPRESS with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began on
the INDEPENDENT. Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when
they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same
breath. Wouldn't know which to believe. One story good till you hear the
next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over.
Hail fellow well met the next moment.

--Ah, listen to this for God' sake, Ned Lambert pleaded. OR AGAIN IF WE
BUT CLIMB THE SERRIED MOUNTAIN PEAKS ...

--Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated
windbag!

--PEAKS, Ned Lambert went on, TOWERING HIGH ON HIGH, TO BATHE OUR SOULS,
AS IT WERE ...

--Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he
taking anything for it?

--AS 'TWERE, IN THE PEERLESS PANORAMA OF IRELAND'S PORTFOLIO, UNMATCHED,