" A portentous clearness now possessed me. --You hear? said Dante, turning to Mrs Dedalus. A remembrance of some of his lines made a sudden flush rise to his painted cheeks. It was wrong; it was unfair and cruel; and, as he sat in the refectory, he suffered time after time in memory the same humiliation until he began to wonder whether it might not really be that there was something in his face which made him look like a schemer and he wished he had a little mirror to see.