O, MILLY BLOOM, YOU ARE MY DARLING.
YOU ARE MY LOOKINGGLASS FROM NIGHT TO MORNING.
I'D RATHER HAVE YOU WITHOUT A FARTHING
THAN KATEY KEOGH WITH HER ASS AND GARDEN.


Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a courteous
old chap. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. And the
little mirror in his silk hat. The night Milly brought it into the
parlour. O, look what I found in professor Goodwin's hat! All we laughed.
Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was.

He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the
teapot on the tray. Its hump bumped as he took it up. Everything on it?
Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes. He carried it
upstairs, his thumb hooked in the teapot handle.

Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it on
the chair by the bedhead.

--What a time you were! she said.

She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on
the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft
bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. The warmth of
her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance of the tea
she poured.

A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the act
of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread.