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

The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.