—Go on, Dedalus, he urged, you can take him off rippingly. _He that will not hear the churcha let him be to theea as the heathena and the publicana._ The imitation was prevented by a mild expression of anger from Wallis in whose mouthpiece the cigarette had become too tightly wedged. —Damn this blankety blank holder, he said, taking it from his mouth and smiling and frowning upon it tolerantly. It’s always getting stuck like that. Do you use a holder? —I don’t smoke, answered Stephen. —No, said Heron, Dedalus is a model youth. He doesn’t smoke and he doesn’t go to bazaars and he doesn’t flirt and he doesn’t damn anything or damn all. Stephen shook his head and smiled in his rival’s flushed and mobile face, beaked like a bird’s. He had often thought it strange that Vincent Heron had a bird’s face as well as a bird’s name. A shock of pale hair lay on the forehead like a ruffled crest: the forehead was narrow and bony and a thin hooked nose stood out between the closeset prominent eyes which were light and inexpressive. The rivals were school friends. They sat together in class, knelt together in the chapel, talked together after beads over their lunches. As the fellows in number one were undistinguished dullards, Stephen and Heron had been during the year the virtual heads of the school. It was they who went up to the rector together to ask for a free day or to get a fellow off. —O by the way, said Heron suddenly, I saw your governor going in. The smile waned on Stephen’s face. Any allusion made to his father by a fellow or by a master put his calm to rout in a moment. He waited in timorous silence to hear what Heron might say next. Heron, however, nudged him expressively with his elbow and said: —You’re a sly dog. —Why so? said Stephen. —You’d think butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, said Heron. But I’m afraid you’re a sly dog. —Might I ask you what you are talking about? said Stephen urbanely. —Indeed you might, answered Heron. We saw her, Wallis, didn’t we? And deucedly pretty she is too. And inquisitive! _And what part does Stephen take, Mr Dedalus? And will Stephen not sing, Mr Dedalus?_ Your governor was staring at her through that eyeglass of his for all he was worth so that I think the old man has found you out too. I wouldn’t care a bit, by Jove. She’s ripping, isn’t she, Wallis? —Not half bad, answered Wallis quietly as he placed his holder once more in a corner of his mouth.