by James Joyce (Author)

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: -Introibo ad altare Dei. Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: -Come up, Kinch Come up, you fearful jesuit

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