--Go on, Dedalus, he urged, you can take him off rippingly. He touched Stephen timidly at the elbow and said eagerly: --Do you feel how profound that is because you are a poet? --Cranly pointed his long forefinger. He approached timidly and knelt at the last bench in the body, thankful for the peace and silence and fragrant shadow of the church. She believed me, I was sure, absolutely: if she hadn't I don't know what would have become of me, for I couldn't have borne the business alone.
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