I saw--I can use no other phrase-- so much of him that it was as if it were more than it had ever been. To the sellers in the market, to the barmen and barmaids, to the beggars who importuned him for a lob Mr Dedalus told the same tale--that he was an old Corkonian, that he had been trying for thirty years to get rid of his Cork accent up in Dublin and that Peter Pickackafax beside him was his eldest son but that he was only a Dublin jackeen. These children were, by the strangest of chances for a man in his position--a lone man without the right sort of experience or a grain of patience--very heavily on his hands. There were two sides in it: Dante was on one side and his father and Mr Casey were on the other side but his mother and uncle Charles were on no side.
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