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German adroitness: Gewandtheit. James Joyce 41 "I told her I was out of a job," said Corley. She doesn't know my name.

I was too hairy to tell her that. But she thinks I'm a bit of class, you know. The swing of his burly body made his friend execute a few light skips from the path to the roadway and back again. Corley was the son of an inspector of police and he had inherited his father's frame and gut. He walked with his hands by his sides, holding himself erect and swaying his head from side to side. His head was large, globular and oily; it sweated in all weathers; and his large round hat, set upon it sideways, looked like a bulb which had grown out of another. He always stared straight before him as if he were on parade and, when he wished to gaze after someone in the street, it was necessary for him to move his body from the hips.

At present he was about town. Whenever any job was vacant a friend was always ready to give him the hard word. He was often to be seen walking with policemen in plain clothes, talking earnestly. He knew the inner side of all affairs and was fond of delivering final judgments.

He spoke without listening to the speech of his companions. His conversation was mainly about himself what he had said to such a person and what such a person had said to him and what he had said to settle the matter. When he reported these dialogues he aspirated the first letter of his name after the manner of Florentines. Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. As the two young men walked on through the crowd Corley occasionally turned to smile at some of the passing girls but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the large faint moon circled with a double halo.

He watched earnestly the passing of the grey web of twilight across its face. At length he said: "Well German aspirated: aspiriert, aspirierte, aspirierten, aspiriertest, aspiriertet. She's a bit gone on me. To save himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery. But Corley had not a subtle mind. I used to take them out, man, on the tram somewhere and pay the tram or take them to a band or a play at the theatre or buy them chocolate and sweets or something that way.

I used to spend money on them right enough," he added, in a convincing tone, as if he was conscious of being disbelieved. But Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely. He moistened his upper lip by running his tongue along it. The recollection brightened his eyes. He too gazed at the pale disc of the moon, now nearly veiled, and seemed to meditate. She was He was silent again.

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James Joyce 43 "She's on the turf now. I saw her driving down Earl Street one night with two fellows with her on a car. This time Lenehan was inclined to disbelieve. He shook his head to and fro and smiled. As they passed along the railings of Trinity College, Lenehan skipped out into the road and peered up at the clock.

I always let her wait a bit. Corley, you know how to take them," he said. You know it's a ticklish job.

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They're damn close on that point. Corley swung his head to and fro as if to toss aside an insistent insect, and his brows gathered. He did not wish to ruffle his friend's temper, to be sent to the devil and told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary.

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But Corley's brow was soon smooth again. His thoughts were running another way. German brow: Braue, Augenbraue, Stirn. Not far from the porch of the club a harpist stood in the roadway, playing to a little ring of listeners. He plucked at the wires heedlessly, glancing quickly from time to time at the face of each new-comer and from time to time, wearily also, at the sky. His harp, too, heedless that her coverings had fallen about her knees, seemed weary alike of the eyes of strangers and of her master's hands. One hand played in the bass the melody of Silent, O Moyle, while the other hand careered in the treble after each group of notes.

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The notes of the air sounded deep and full. When they reached Stephen's Green they crossed the road. Here the noise of trams, the lights and the crowd released them from their silence. At the corner of Hume Street a young woman was standing. She wore a blue dress and a white sailor hat. She stood on the curbstone, swinging a sunshade in one hand. Lenehan grew lively. Corley glanced sideways at his friend and an unpleasant grin appeared on his face.

All I want is to have a look at her. I'm not going to eat her. A look at her? I'll tell you what. I'll go over and talk to her and you can pass by. Corley had already thrown one leg over the chains when Lenehan called out: "And after? Where will we meet? James Joyce 45 "Half ten," answered Corley, bringing over his other leg. We'll be coming back. He sauntered across the road swaying his head from side to side.

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His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them. He approached the young woman and, without saluting, began at once to converse with her. She swung her umbrella more quickly and executed half turns on her heels. Once or twice when he spoke to her at close quarters she laughed and bent her head. Lenehan observed them for a few minutes.

Then he walked rapidly along beside the chains at some distance and crossed the road obliquely. As he approached Hume Street corner he found the air heavily scented and his eyes made a swift anxious scrutiny of the young woman's appearance. She had her Sunday finery on. Her blue serge skirt was held at the waist by a belt of black leather. The great silver buckle of her belt seemed to depress the centre of her body, catching the light stuff of her white blouse like a clip. She wore a short black jacket with mother-of-pearl buttons and a ragged black boa.

The ends of her tulle collarette had been carefully disordered and a big bunch of red flowers was pinned in her bosom stems upwards.


Lenehan's eyes noted approvingly her stout short muscular body. Her features were blunt. She had broad nostrils, a straggling mouth which lay open in a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth. As he passed Lenehan took off his cap and, after about ten seconds, Corley returned a salute to the air. This he did by raising his hand vaguely and pensively changing the angle of position of his hat. Lenehan walked as far as the Shelbourne Hotel where he halted and waited.

After waiting for a little time he saw them coming towards him and, when they turned to the right, he followed them, stepping lightly in his white shoes, down one side of Merrion Square. As he walked on slowly, timing his pace to theirs, he German approvingly: zustimmend. He kept the pair in view until he had seen them climbing the stairs of the Donnybrook tram; then he turned about and went back the way he had come.

His gaiety seemed to forsake him and, as he came by the railings of the Duke's Lawn, he allowed his hand to run along them. The air which the harpist had played began to control his movements His softly padded feet played the melody while his fingers swept a scale of variations idly along the railings after each group of notes.

He walked listlessly round Stephen's Green and then down Grafton Street. Though his eyes took note of many elements of the crowd through which he passed they did so morosely. He found trivial all that was meant to charm him and did not answer the glances which invited him to be bold. He knew that he would have to speak a great deal, to invent and to amuse and his brain and throat were too dry for such a task.