wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a tail of white bowknots.

Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said, and you’ll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk. Small nines. Steal upon larks.

He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding feet past the fireplace to J. J. O’Molloy who placed the tissues in his receiving hands.

What’s that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two gone?

Who? the professor said, turning. They’re gone round to the Oval for a drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.

Come on then, Myles Crawford said. Where’s