Page 230 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

—Throw him out and shut the door, the editor said.
There’s a hurricane blowing.
Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor,
grunting as he stooped twice.

—Waiting for the racing special, sir, the newsboy said.
It was Pat Farrell shoved me, sir.
He pointed to two faces peering in round the
doorframe.
—Him, sir.
—Out of this with you, professor MacHugh said
gruffly.
He hustled the boy out and banged the door to.
J. J. O’Molloy turned the files crackingly over,
murmuring, seeking:
—Continued on page six, column four.
—Yes, Evening Telegraph here, Mr Bloom phoned from
the inner office. Is the boss ...? Yes, Telegraph ... To
where? Aha! Which auction rooms ?... Aha! I see ...
Right. I’ll catch him.

A COLLISION ENSUES

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