He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. Their lives . I have it. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

―Getting it up? he said. Well, it’s like a company idea, you see. Part shares and part profits.

―Ay, now I remember, Nosey Flynn said, putting his hand in his pocket to scratch his groin. Who is this was telling me? Isn’t Blazes Boylan mixed up in it?

A warm shock of air heat of mustard hauched on Mr Bloom’s heart. He raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. Two. Pub clock five minutes fast. Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more longly, longingly.

Wine.