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I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my own, you know. Fancy of a friend of mine. Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Idolores. The eastern seas. Clock whirred. Clock clacked. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It clanged. Clock clacked.
By Jove, he mused, I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must be a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at last, they say. Yes. Yes. Yes. He fingered shreds of hair, her maidenhair, her mermaid's, into the bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute. None nought said nothing. Yes. Gaily miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas!
Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Horrid! And gold flushed more. A husky fifenote blew. Blew. Blue bloom is on the. Goldpinnacled hair. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile. Trilling, trilling: Idolores. Peep! Who's in the... peepofgold? Tink cried to bronze in pity.
They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent. Pat served, uncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices.
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