Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 8 Page 25

She’s three days bad now.

O, Mr Bloom said. I’m sorry to hear that.

Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It’s a very stiff birth, the nurse told me.

O, Mr Bloom said.

His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in compassion. Dth! Dth!

I’m sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That’s terrible for her.

Mrs Breen nodded.

She was taken bad on the Tuesday...

Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gently, warning her:

Mind! Let this man pass.