Opening her handbag, chipped leather, hatpin: ought to have a guard on those things. Stick it in a chap’s eye in the tram. Rummaging. Open. Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain. Husband barging. Where’s the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Ave you feeding your little brother’s family? Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she?⁠ ⁠…

―There must be a new moon out, she said. He’s always bad then. Do you know what he did last night?

Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in alarm, yet smiling.

―What? Mr Bloom asked.

Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.

―Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had, a nightmare.