No More Learning

Now he
was laid to rest. And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to
him for the rest of his days and he couldn't even go to the funeral on
account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him the
letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic,
standard designs, fit for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright
and cheery in the home.

A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the
house, a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in
gold. And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was
it rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't
like her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single
thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the
world of her for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at
the main every night and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that
place where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr
Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the picture of halcyon days
where a young gentleman in the costume they used to wear then with a
threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his ladylove with
oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. You could see there was a
story behind it. The colours were done something lovely. She was in
a soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in
chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She often looked at them
dreamily when she went there for a certain purpose and felt her own
arms that were white and soft just like hers with the sleeves back
and thought about those times because she had found out in Walker's
pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the
halcyon days what they meant.

The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion
till at last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was
no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he
could down towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was
not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was
sitting there by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted
the ball. Our two champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and
to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to
her please. The gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw
it up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and
stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The
twins clamoured again for it and Cissy told her to kick it away and
let them fight for it so Gerty drew back her foot but she wished their
stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her and she gave a kick but she
missed and Edy and Cissy laughed.

--If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said.

Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her
pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted
her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a
jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down
towards the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw
attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the
warm flush, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and
flaming into her cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of
the most casual but now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a
look at him and the face that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan
and strangely drawn, seemed to her the saddest she had ever seen.

Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted
and with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of
original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray
for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And
careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many
who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all
that bright with hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told
them what the great saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, the
most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was not recorded in any
age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned
by her.

The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of
childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with
baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Peep
she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was Cissy
gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word,
didn't the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.

--Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.

And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for
eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of
health, a perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out
to be something great, they said.

--Haja ja ja haja.

Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to
sit up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried
out, holy saint Denis, that he was possing wet and to double the half
blanket the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most
obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:

--Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.

And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all
no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the
geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave
him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was
quickly appeased.

Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out
of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little
brats of twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the
paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured
chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, the
evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and to
hear the music like that and the perfume of those incense they burned
in the church like a kind of waft. And while she gazed her heart went
pitapat. Yes, it was her he was looking at, and there was meaning in his
look. His eyes burned into her as though they would search her through
and through, read her very soul. Wonderful eyes they were, superbly
expressive, but could you trust them? People were so queer. She could
see at once by his dark eyes and his pale intellectual face that he
was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of Martin Harvey, the
matinee idol, only for the moustache which she preferred because she
wasn't stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always
dress the same on account of a play but she could not see whether he had
an aquiline nose or a slightly _retrousse_ from where he was sitting.
He was in deep mourning, she could see that, and the story of a haunting
sorrow was written on his face. She would have given worlds to know what
it was. He was looking up so intently, so still, and he saw her kick the
ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel buckles of her shoes if
she swung them like that thoughtfully with the toes down. She was glad
that something told her to put on the transparent stockings thinking
Reggy Wylie might be out but that was far away. Here was that of which
she had so often dreamed. It was he who mattered and there was joy on
her face because she wanted him because she felt instinctively that he
was like no-one else. The very heart of the girlwoman went out to him,
her dreamhusband, because she knew on the instant it was him. If he had
suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or even, even, if he had
been himself a sinner, a wicked man, she cared not. Even if he was a
protestant or methodist she could convert him easily if he truly loved
her. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. She was a
womanly woman not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had known,
those cyclists showing off what they hadn't got and she just yearned to
know all, to forgive all if she could make him fall in love with her,
make him forget the memory of the past. Then mayhap he would embrace her
gently, like a real man, crushing her soft body to him, and love her,
his ownest girlie, for herself alone.

Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. _Ora pro nobis_. Well
has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy
can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge
for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced
her own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the
stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue
banners of the blessed Virgin's sodality and Father Conroy was helping
Canon O'Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes
cast down. He looked almost a saint and his confessionbox was so quiet
and clean and dark and his hands were just like white wax and if ever
she became a Dominican nun in their white habit perhaps he might come to
the convent for the novena of Saint Dominic. He told her that time when
she told him about that in confession, crimsoning up to the roots of her
hair for fear he could see, not to be troubled because that was only the
voice of nature and we were all subject to nature's laws, he said, in
this life and that that was no sin because that came from the nature of
woman instituted by God, he said, and that Our Blessed Lady herself said
to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. He
was so kind and holy and often and often she thought and thought could
she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him as a
present or a clock but they had a clock she noticed on the mantelpiece
white and gold with a canarybird that came out of a little house to tell
the time the day she went there about the flowers for the forty hours'
adoration because it was hard to know what sort of a present to give or
perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place.

The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky
threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little
monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give them
a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of
them. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they
were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned.

--Jacky! Tommy!

Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very
last time she'd ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and
she ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had
a good enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the
thingamerry she was always rubbing into it she couldn't get it to grow
long because it wasn't natural so she could just go and throw her hat at
it. She ran with long gandery strides it was a wonder she didn't rip up
her skirt at the side that was too tight on her because there was a lot
of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever
she thought she had a good opportunity to show and just because she was
a good runner she ran like that so that he could see all the end of her
petticoat running and her skinny shanks up as far as possible. It
would have served her just right if she had tripped up over something
accidentally on purpose with her high crooked French heels on her to
make her look tall and got a fine tumble. _Tableau! _ That would have
been a very charming expose for a gentleman like that to witness.

Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of prophets, of all saints,
they prayed, queen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy handed
the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and he put in the incense and censed the
Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and she was
itching to give them a ringing good clip on the ear but she didn't
because she thought he might be watching but she never made a bigger
mistake in all her life because Gerty could see without looking that
he never took his eyes off of her and then Canon O'Hanlon handed the
thurible back to Father Conroy and knelt down looking up at the Blessed
Sacrament and the choir began to sing the _Tantum ergo_ and she just
swung her foot in and out in time as the music rose and fell to
the _Tantumer gosa cramen tum_. Three and eleven she paid for those
stockings in Sparrow's of George's street on the Tuesday, no the Monday
before Easter and there wasn't a brack on them and that was what he
was looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had
neither shape nor form (the cheek of her! ) because he had eyes in his
head to see the difference for himself.

Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with
her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a
streel tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought only
a fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her petticoat
hanging like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a moment to
settle her hair and a prettier, a daintier head of nutbrown tresses was
never seen on a girl's shoulders--a radiant little vision, in sooth,
almost maddening in its sweetness. You would have to travel many a long
mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. She could almost
see the swift answering flash of admiration in his eyes that set her
tingling in every nerve. She put on her hat so that she could see from
underneath the brim and swung her buckled shoe faster for her breath
caught as she caught the expression in his eyes. He was eying her as a
snake eyes its prey. Her woman's instinct told her that she had raised
the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat
to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a glorious rose.

Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty,
half smiling, with her specs like an old maid, pretending to nurse the
baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was why
no-one could get on with her poking her nose into what was no concern of
hers. And she said to Gerty:

--A penny for your thoughts.

--What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth. I
was only wondering was it late.

Because she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and
their babby home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just
gave a gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy
asked her the time and Miss Cissy, as glib as you like, said it was half
past kissing time, time to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know because
they were told to be in early.

--Wait, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the
time by his conundrum.

So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his
hand out of his pocket, getting nervous, and beginning to play with his
watchchain, looking up at the church. Passionate nature though he was
Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment he
had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and the
next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol expressed
in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure.

Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the
right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch, listening to it
and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry his
watch was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the
sun was set. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in
measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones.
Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said
his waterworks were out of order.

Then they sang the second verse of the _Tantum ergo_ and Canon O'Hanlon
got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he told
Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire to the
flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and she could
see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the works and she
swung her leg more in and out in time. It was getting darker but he
could see and he was looking all the time that he was winding the watch
or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it back and put his hands
back into his pockets. She felt a kind of a sensation rushing all over
her and she knew by the feel of her scalp and that irritation against
her stays that that thing must be coming on because the last time too
was when she clipped her hair on account of the moon. His dark eyes
fixed themselves on her again drinking in her every contour, literally
worshipping at her shrine. If ever there was undisguised admiration in a
man's passionate gaze it was there plain to be seen on that man's face.
It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you know it.

Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty
noticed that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect
because it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place
to push up the pushcar and Cissy took off the twins' caps and tidied
their hair to make herself attractive of course and Canon O'Hanlon stood
up with his cope poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed him the
card to read off and he read out _Panem de coelo praestitisti eis_ and
Edy and Cissy were talking about the time all the time and asking her
but Gerty could pay them back in their own coin and she just answered
with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she heartbroken about
her best boy throwing her over. Gerty winced sharply. A brief cold blaze
shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. It hurt--O
yes, it cut deep because Edy had her own quiet way of saying things
like that she knew would wound like the confounded little cat she was.
Gerty's lips parted swiftly to frame the word but she fought back
the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless, so beautifully
moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. She had loved him
better than he knew. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle like all his sex
he would never understand what he had meant to her and for an instant
there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Their eyes were
probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she sparkled back in
sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them to see.

--O, responded Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and the proud head
flashed up. I can throw my cap at who I like because it's leap year.

Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the cooing of the
ringdove, but they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young
voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. As
for Mr Reggy with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck
him aside as if he was so much filth and never again would she cast as
much as a second thought on him and tear his silly postcard into a dozen
pieces. And if ever after he dared to presume she could give him one
look of measured scorn that would make him shrivel up on the spot. Miss
puny little Edy's countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty could
see by her looking as black as thunder that she was simply in a towering
rage though she hid it, the little kinnatt, because that shaft had
struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that she was
something aloof, apart, in another sphere, that she was not of them and
never would be and there was somebody else too that knew it and saw it
so they could put that in their pipe and smoke it.

Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy tucked in
the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too because the
sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior. And Cissy told him
too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and baby
looked just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes, and Cissy
poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, without as
much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and sundry on to
his brandnew dribbling bib.

--O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. He has his bib destroyed.

The slight _contretemps_ claimed her attention but in two twos she set
that little matter to rights.

Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and Edy
asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was
flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed
it off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction
because just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet
seashore because Canon O'Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that
Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the
Blessed Sacrament in his hands.

How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight, the last glimpse
of Erin, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same
time a bat flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk, hither,
thither, with a tiny lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of
the lighthouses so picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of
paints because it was easier than to make a man and soon the lamplighter
would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds and along
by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked and lighting the
lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn his freewheel like
she read in that book _The Lamplighter_ by Miss Cummins, author of
_Mabel Vaughan_ and other tales. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one
knew of. She loved to read poetry and when she got a keepsake from
Bertha Supple of that lovely confession album with the coralpink cover
to write her thoughts in she laid it in the drawer of her toilettable
which, though it did not err on the side of luxury, was scrupulously
neat and clean. It was there she kept her girlish treasure trove, the
tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary badge, the whiterose scent, the
eyebrowleine, her alabaster pouncetbox and the ribbons to change
when her things came home from the wash and there were some beautiful
thoughts written in it in violet ink that she bought in Hely's of Dame
Street for she felt that she too could write poetry if she could only
express herself like that poem that appealed to her so deeply that
she had copied out of the newspaper she found one evening round the
potherbs. _Art thou real, my ideal? _ it was called by Louis J Walsh,
Magherafelt, and after there was something about _twilight, wilt thou
ever? _ and ofttimes the beauty of poetry, so sad in its transient
loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that
the years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but for that one
shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that was an
accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it.
But it must end, she felt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there
would be no holding back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She
would make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his
thoughts. Dearer than the whole world would she be to him and gild his
days with happiness. There was the allimportant question and she was
dying to know was he a married man or a widower who had lost his wife
or some tragedy like the nobleman with the foreign name from the land
of song had to have her put into a madhouse, cruel only to be kind.
But even if--what then? Would it make a very great difference? From
everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively
recoiled. She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the
accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and
coarse men with no respect for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and
being taken up to the police station. No, no: not that. They would be
just good friends like a big brother and sister without all that other
in spite of the conventions of Society with a big ess. Perhaps it was
an old flame he was in mourning for from the days beyond recall. She
thought she understood. She would try to understand him because men were
so different. The old love was waiting, waiting with little white
hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Heart of mine! She would
follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he
was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was
the master guide. Nothing else mattered. Come what might she would be
wild, untrammelled, free.

Canon O'Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle and
genuflected and the choir sang _Laudate Dominum omnes gentes_ and then
he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction was over and
Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't
she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out:

--O, look, Cissy!

And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over the
trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple.

--It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey said.

And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church,
helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy
holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn't fall running.

--Come on, Gerty, Cissy called. It's the bazaar fireworks.

But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and
call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she could
see from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set her
pulses tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, and
a light broke in upon her. Whitehot passion was in that face, passion
silent as the grave, and it had made her his. At last they were left
alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she knew he could
be trusted to the death, steadfast, a sterling man, a man of inflexible
honour to his fingertips. His hands and face were working and a tremour
went over her. She leaned back far to look up where the fireworks were
and she caught her knee in her hands so as not to fall back looking up
and there was no-one to see only him and her when she revealed all her
graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, supply soft and delicately
rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting of his heart, his hoarse
breathing, because she knew too about the passion of men like that,
hotblooded, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead secret and made
her swear she'd never about the gentleman lodger that was staying with
them out of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out of
papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she said he used to do
something not very nice that you could imagine sometimes in the bed. But
this was altogether different from a thing like that because there was
all the difference because she could almost feel him draw her face to
his and the first quick hot touch of his handsome lips. Besides there
was absolution so long as you didn't do the other thing before being
married and there ought to be women priests that would understand
without your telling out and Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy
kind of dreamy look in her eyes so that she too, my dear, and Winny
Rippingham so mad about actors' photographs and besides it was on
account of that other thing coming on the way it did.

And Jacky Caffrey shouted to look, there was another and she leaned back
and the garters were blue to match on account of the transparent and
they all saw it and they all shouted to look, look, there it was and
she leaned back ever so far to see the fireworks and something queer was
flying through the air, a soft thing, to and fro, dark. And she saw a
long Roman candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in the tense
hush, they were all breathless with excitement as it went higher and
higher and she had to lean back more and more to look up after it, high,
high, almost out of sight, and her face was suffused with a divine, an
entrancing blush from straining back and he could see her other things
too, nainsook knickers, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than
those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, on account of being
white and she let him and she saw that he saw and then it went so high
it went out of sight a moment and she was trembling in every limb from
being bent so far back that he had a full view high up above her knee
where no-one ever not even on the swing or wading and she wasn't ashamed
and he wasn't either to look in that immodest way like that because he
couldn't resist the sight of the wondrous revealment half offered like
those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he
kept on looking, looking. She would fain have cried to him chokingly,
held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips laid on
her white brow, the cry of a young girl's love, a little strangled cry,
wrung from her, that cry that has rung through the ages. And then a
rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle
burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures
and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they
shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so
lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!

Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She
glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a pathetic little glance of
piteous protest, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl He
was leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is he)
stands silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. What a
brute he had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called to him
and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? An utter cad he had been!
He of all men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes,
for him too a word of pardon even though he had erred and sinned and
wandered. Should a girl tell?
No, a thousand times no. That was their
secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there was none to
know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly through the evening
to and fro and little bats don't tell.

Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the football field to show
what a great person she was: and then she cried:

--Gerty! Gerty! We're going. Come on. We can see from farther up.

Gerty had an idea, one of love's little ruses. She slipped a hand into
her kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of
course without letting him and then slipped it back. Wonder if he's too
far to. She rose. Was it goodbye? No. She had to go but they would meet
again, there, and she would dream of that till then, tomorrow, of her
dream of yester eve. She drew herself up to her full height. Their souls
met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her heart, full
of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her sweet flowerlike face. She
half smiled at him wanly, a sweet forgiving smile, a smile that verged
on tears, and then they parted.

Slowly, without looking back she went down the uneven strand to Cissy,
to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, to little baby Boardman. It was
darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and
slippy seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic
of her but with care and very slowly because--because Gerty MacDowell
was. . .

Tight boots? No. She's lame! O!

Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Poor girl! That's why she's
left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was
wrong by the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse
in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn't know it when she was on
show. Hot little devil all the same. I wouldn't mind. Curiosity like a
nun or a negress or a girl with glasses. That squinty one is delicate.
Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. I have such
a bad headache today. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all right. All
kinds of crazy longings. Licking pennies. Girl in Tranquilla convent
that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Virgins go mad in the end I
suppose. Sister? How many women in Dublin have it today? Martha, she.
Something in the air. That's the moon. But then why don't all women
menstruate at the same time with the same moon, I mean? Depends on the
time they were born I suppose. Or all start scratch then get out of
step. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Anyhow I got the best of that.
Damned glad I didn't do it in the bath this morning over her silly I
will punish you letter. Made up for that tramdriver this morning. That
gouger M'Coy stopping me to say nothing. And his wife engagement in the
country valise, voice like a pickaxe. Thankful for small mercies.
Cheap too. Yours for the asking. Because they want it themselves. Their
natural craving. Shoals of them every evening poured out of offices.
Reserve better. Don't want it they throw it at you. Catch em alive, O.
Pity they can't see themselves. A dream of wellfilled hose. Where was
that? Ah, yes. Mutoscope pictures in Capel street: for men only. Peeping
Tom. Willy's hat and what the girls did with it. Do they snapshot those
girls or is it all a fake? _Lingerie_ does it. Felt for the curves
inside her _deshabille. _ Excites them also when they're. I'm all clean
come and dirty me. And they like dressing one another for the sacrifice.
Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. At first. Put them all on to
take them all off. Molly. Why I bought her the violet garters. Us too:
the tie he wore, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. He wore a pair
of gaiters the night that first we met. His lovely shirt was shining
beneath his what? of jet. Say a woman loses a charm with every pin she
takes out. Pinned together. O, Mairy lost the pin of her. Dressed up to
the nines for somebody. Fashion part of their charm. Just changes when
you're on the track of the secret. Except the east: Mary, Martha: now as
then. No reasonable offer refused. She wasn't in a hurry either. Always
off to a fellow when they are. They never forget an appointment. Out on
spec probably. They believe in chance because like themselves. And the
others inclined to give her an odd dig. Girl friends at school, arms
round each other's necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and
whispering secrets about nothing in the convent garden. Nuns with
whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their rosaries going up and down,
vindictive too for what they can't get. Barbed wire. Be sure now and
write to me. And I'll write to you. Now won't you? Molly and Josie
Powell. Till Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a blue moon.
_Tableau! _ O, look who it is for the love of God! How are you at all?
What have you been doing with yourself? Kiss and delighted to, kiss,
to see you. Picking holes in each other's appearance. You're looking
splendid. Sister souls. Showing their teeth at one another. How many
have you left? Wouldn't lend each other a pinch of salt.

Ah!

Devils they are when that's coming on them. Dark devilish appearance.
Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of my
foot. O that way! O, that's exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest
once in a way. Wonder if it's bad to go with them then. Safe in one way.
Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Something about withering plants I
read in a garden. Besides they say if the flower withers she wears she's
a flirt. All are. Daresay she felt 1. When you feel like that you often
meet what you feel. Liked me or what? Dress they look at. Always know a
fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Well cocks and lions do the same
and stags. Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. Trousers?
Suppose I when I was? No. Gently does it. Dislike rough and tumble. Kiss
in the dark and never tell. Saw something in me. Wonder what. Sooner
have me as I am than some poet chap with bearsgrease plastery hair,
lovelock over his dexter optic. To aid gentleman in literary. Ought to
attend to my appearance my age. Didn't let her see me in profile. Still,
you never know. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Beauty and the
beast. Besides I can't be so if Molly. Took off her hat to show her
hair. Wide brim. Bought to hide her face, meeting someone might know
her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell. Hair strong in rut.
Ten bob I got for Molly's combings when we were on the rocks in Holles
street. Why not? Suppose he gave her money. Why not? All a prejudice.
She's worth ten, fifteen, more, a pound. What? I think so. All that for
nothing. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. Did I forget to write address on
that letter like the postcard I sent to Flynn? And the day I went to
Drimmie's without a necktie. Wrangle with Molly it was put me off. No,
I remember. Richie Goulding: he's another. Weighs on his mind. Funny
my watch stopped at half past four. Dust. Shark liver oil they use to
clean. Could do it myself. Save. Was that just when he, she?

O, he did. Into her. She did. Done.

Ah!

Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. O Lord, that little
limping devil. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Aftereffect not pleasant.
Still you have to get rid of it someway. They don't care. Complimented
perhaps. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night prayers with the
kiddies.