Tom Kernan was immense last night

-- The weather is changing, he said quietly.
-- A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said.
-- Wanted for the country, Mr Power said. There's the sun again coming out.
Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled a mute curse at the sky.
-- It's as uncertain as a child's bottom, he said.
-- We're off again.
The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.
-- Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said. And Paddy Leonard taking him off to his face.
-- O draw him out, Martin, Mr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear him, Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of The Croppy Boy.
-- Immense, Martin Cunningham said pompously. His singing of that simple ballad, Martin, is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the whole course of my experience.
-- Trenchant, Mr Power said laughing. He's dead nuts on that. And the retrospective arrangement.
-- Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Martin Cunningham asked.
-- I did not then, Mr Dedalus said. Where is it?
-- In the paper this morning.
Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. That book I must change for her.
-- No, no, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Later on, please.