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Delaney:    Useen:       [*]
Delaney: Grey horror seared his flesh. Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward. Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Well, I am here now. Yes, I am here now. Morning mouth bad images. Got up wrong side of the bed. Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. On the hands down. Blotchy brown brick houses. Number eighty still unlet. Why is that? Valuation is only twentyeight. Towers, Battersby, North, MacArthur: parlour windows plastered with bills. Plasters on a sore eye. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Yes, yes.
LB and SD suffer parallel hauntings; LB responds by doing mental exercises about real estate
Delaney: Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley Road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a girl with gold hair on the wind.
Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. He stooped and gathered them. Mrs Marion Bloom. His quickened heart slowed at once. Bold hand. Mrs Marion.
cf p8 "Stephen, still trembling at his soul's cry, heard warm running sunlight" p4 "Tripping and sunny like the buck himself."
cf Homer of Hermes "Straightway he bound beneath his feet his lovely golden sandals, that wax not old, that bare him alike over the wet sea and over the limitless land, swift as the breath of the wind."
saying "Mrs Marion Bloom" instead of Mrs Leopold Bloom would have been bad manners
|Joyce compared Molly's appearance to Eleanora Duse|
Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head.
— Who are the letters for?
He looked at them. Mullingar. Milly.
— A letter for me from Milly, he said carefully, and a card to you. And a letter for you.
Delaney: He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees.
— Do you want the blind up?
Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow.
— That do? he asked, turning.
She was reading the card, propped on her elbow.
calypso: 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67