Do you follow me?

He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs.

What is this, he said, in the name of God? Crumbs?

Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Power said.

All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather of the seats. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said:

Unless I’m greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin?

It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said.

Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet quite clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.