.. Wait awhile ... We're on the right lay, Bob, believe you
me.
--For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said anxiously.
Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a dangling button
of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the
heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.
--What few days? he boomed. Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?
--He has, Father Cowley said.
--Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben
Dollard said. The landlord has the prior claim. I gave him all the
particulars. 29 Windsor avenue. Love is the name?
--That's right, Father Cowley said. The reverend Mr Love. He's a minister
in the country somewhere. But are you sure of that?
--You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said, that he can put that
writ where Jacko put the nuts.
He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.
--Filberts I believe they were, Mr Dedalus said, as he dropped his
glasses on his coatfront, following them.
* * * * *
--The youngster will be all right, Martin Cunningham said, as they passed
out of the Castleyard gate.
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