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Updated: May 19, 2025
It's all owing to me," said the delighted Kinch, who skipped about the entry until he upset a vase of flowers that stood on a bracket behind him; whereupon Caddy ran and brought a towel, and made him take off his white gloves and wipe up the water, in spite of his protestations that the shape of his pantaloons would not bear the strain of stooping.
Water was procured and thrown in his face, and before Kinch returned with the doctor, he was quite restored to consciousness. "Don't cry, my little man," said the physician, as he took out his knife and ripped up the sleeve of Charlie's coat. "Don't cry; let me examine your arm."
Beguiling the time with this and similar conversation, they reached the house to which Charlie had been despatched with a note; after which, he turned his steps homeward, still accompanied by the redoubtable Kinch.
He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen's face. The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That's why she won't let me have anything to do with you. Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily. You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you.
Walters's male friends had volunteered their aid in defence of his house, and their services had been accepted. Mr. Walters, and sharing with him the fortunes of the night, his wife and daughters having declared they would feel as safe there as elsewhere; and, accordingly, about five in the afternoon, Mrs. Ellis came up, accompanied by Kinch and the girls.
Also, he was deformed a twisted leg. The women of the neighbourhood sometimes said he would be better dead. But Hazen Kinch loved him. He lifted him in his arms now with a curious passion in his movement, and the child stared at him sullenly. When the mother came near the baby squalled at her, and Hazen said roughly: "Stand away! Leave him alone!"
Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of Ireland. I'll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk straight? Laughing, he... Swill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment. Lubber... Stephen followed a lubber... One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After. His lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe.
Walters said: "Not a word of this is to be lisped anywhere except with my permission, and by my direction. Have you had your dinner?" "No, sir," was the prompt reply. "I want to despatch a note to Mr. Ellis, by you, if it won't trouble you too much. Can you oblige me?" "Oh, yes, sir, by all means," replied Kinch, "I'll go there with pleasure." "Then whilst I'm writing," continued Mr.
Kinch led the way into a back room, where he assisted Mr. Stevens to array himself in his newly-purchased garments. By the change in his attire he seemed completely robbed of all appearance of respectability; the most disagreeable points of his physique seemed to be brought more prominently forward by the habiliments he had assumed, they being quite in harmony with his villanous countenance.
Not on my breakfast. Stephen turned away. I'm going, Mulligan, he said. Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise flat. Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes. And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there. Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing.
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