To cut a long story short Bloom, grasping the situation, was the first to rise from his seat so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being as good as his word that he would foot the bill for the occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the others were not looking to the effect that the amount due was forthcoming, making a grand total of fourpence (the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally the last of the Mohicans), he having previously spotted on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and honestly well worth twice the money once in a way, as Wetherup used to remark.

—­Come, he counselled to close the seance.

Seeing that the ruse worked and the coast was clear they left the shelter or shanty together and the elite society of oilskin and company whom nothing short of an earthquake would move out of their Dolce far NIENTE.  Stephen, who confessed to still feeling poorly and fagged out, paused at the, for a moment, the door.

—­One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of the moment.  Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs upside down, on the tables in cafes.  To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment’s hesitation, saying straight off: 

—­To sweep the floor in the morning.

So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly at the same time apologetic to get on his companion’s right, a habit of his, by the bye, his right side being, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles.  The night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit weak on his pins.

—­It will (the air) do you good, Bloom said, meaning also the walk, in a moment.  The only thing is to walk then you’ll feel a different man.  Come.  It’s not far.  Lean on me.

Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen’s right and led him on accordingly.

—­Yes, Stephen said uncertainly because he thought he felt a strange kind of flesh of a different man approach him, sinewless and wobbly and all that.

Anyhow they passed the sentrybox with stones, brazier etc. where the municipal supernumerary, ex Gumley, was still to all intents and purposes wrapped in the arms of Murphy, as the adage has it, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new.  And apropos of coffin of stones the analogy was not at all bad as it was in fact a stoning to death on the part of seventytwo out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the time of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings.