The Siren. I'm obliged to you, I'm sure! Is that meant to be personal?
Ulysses. Oh, I wasn't thinking of you when I said that.
The Siren. You're very complimentary. But do tell me—am I like that? (She presents her face for his inspection.) Candidly, now.
Ulysses (conscientiously). Well, I don't notice anything particular—but, you see, colours don't show up by moonlight.
[The Siren coldly intimates that her Mother will be waiting supper for them.
An Habitué. Some people will tell yer, now, that Margit's vulgar. They must be precious 'ard to please, that's all! I'm as partickler as what most are, and I can assure yer if there was anythink o' that sort about, I shouldn't come down 'ere reglar, season after season, like I do!
His Companion. In course not—and no more shouldn't I, neither!
Along the Esplanade.
Female Voice (from the recesses of a glazed shelter). But if you're on the sands all day, how is it I never see you?
Male Voice (mysteriously). Would you like to know? Really? You shall. (With pride.) I'm one of the Niggers!