Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 11 Page 17

Tiptop.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the strand all day.

Bronze whiteness.

That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

O go away! she said. You’re very simple, I don’t think.

He was.

Well now I am, he mused. I looked so simple in the cradle they christened me simple Simon.

You must have been a doaty, miss Douce made answer. And what did the doctor order today?