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Ulysses - Joyce, James ยท 49 words

Ulysses - Joyce, James

And now his strongroom for the gold. Stephens embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar. whelks and money cowries and leopard shells. and this, whorled as an emirs turban, and this, the scallop of saint James. An old pilgrims hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells.

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Ulysses - Joyce, James | Practice