―No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I’ll call later in the day and I’ll take one of those soaps. How much are they?

―Fourpence, sir.

Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.

―I’ll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny.

―Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you come back.

―Good, Mr Bloom said.

He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his left hand.