The hand freckled and strong and shapely and caressing was Davin's hand. Stephen walked on at his father's side, listening to stories he had heard before, hearing again the names of the scattered and dead revellers who had been the companions of his father's youth. After a moment he said: --I say! --What? asked Stephen. I had sat down with a piece of work--for I was something or other that could sit-- on the old stone bench which overlooked the pond; and in this position I began to take in with certitude, and yet without direct vision, the presence, at a distance, of a third person.