PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He’s my pal. I love old Bennett.

THE NAVVY: (Shouts.)

The galling chain.

And free our native land.

(He staggers forward, dragging them with him.

Bloom stops, at fault. The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting.)

BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at Westland row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far. Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding for the night or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What am I following him for? Still, he’s the best of that lot. If I hadn’t