"(Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her blue scarf in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the arms of her lover and calls, her young eyes wonderwide.)
My! It's Papli! But, O Papli, how old you've grown!
Changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote, Aunt Hegarty's armchair, our classic reprints of old masters."