Heart of gold really. Yes, Menton. Got his rag out that evening on the bowling green because I sailed inside him. Pure fluke of mine: the bias. Why he took such a rooted dislike to me. Hate at first sight. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the lilactree, laughing. Fellow always like that mortified if women are by.
Got a dinge in the side of his hat. Carriage probably.
―Excuse me, sir, Mr Bloom said beside them.
They stopped.
―Your hat is a little crushed, Mr Bloom said, pointing.
John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving.
―There, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also.
John Henry Menton took off