One must go first: alone, under the ground: and lie no more in her warm bed.

How are you, Simon? Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Haven’t seen you for a month of Sundays.

Never better. How are all in Cork’s own town?

I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy.

And how is Dick, the solid man?

Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered.

By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald?

Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said, pointing ahead. A few bob a skull.