He closed his left eye

Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside her. I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent. Learn German too.
-- Are we late? Mr Power asked.
-- Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch
Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she's a dear girl. Soon be a woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes: a woman too. Life. Life.
The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying.
-- Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said.
-- He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn't that squint troubling him. Do you follow me?
He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs.
-- What is this, he said, in the name of God? Crumbs?
-- Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Power said.
All raised their thighs, eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather of the seats. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said:
-- Unless I'm greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin?
-- It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said.
Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet quite clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.
Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.
-- After all, he said, it's the most natural thing in the world.
-- Did Tom Kernan turn up? Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of his beard gently.