oct 19, 2011
“Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of
drab abraded leather of its chairs. As on the first day he
bargained with me here. As it was in the beginning, is
now. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base
treasure of a bog: and ever shall be. And snug in their
spooncase of purple plush, faded, the twelve apostles
having preached to all the gentiles: world without end.
A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor.
Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the
—First, our little financial settlement, he said.”
As Stephen waits in the headmaster’s study, we learn something about its inhabitant.