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Joyce, James, 1882-1941

"Ulysses"

..
--I know, M'Coy broke in. My missus sang there once.
--Did she? Lenehan said.
A card UNFURNISHED APARTMENTS reappeared on the windowsash of
number 7 Eccles street.
He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.
--But wait till I tell you, he said. Delahunt of Camden street had the
catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife were
there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to
which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After liquids came
solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies ...
--I know, M'Coy said. The year the missus was there ...
Lenehan linked his arm warmly.
--But wait till I tell you, he said. We had a midnight lunch too after all
the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the
morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous winter's
night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one
side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We started singing
glees and duets: LO, THE EARLY BEAM OF MORNING. She was well primed with a
good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband.


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