Like through a colander. I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now.

The weather is changing, he said quietly.

A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said.

Wanted for the country, Mr Power said.

There’s the sun again coming out.

Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled a mute curse at the sky.

It’s as uncertain as a child’s bottom, he said.

We’re off again.

The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.