es are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns has the
lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water, given her by a lady who got
a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen
and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday.

--Antithesis, the professor said nodding twice. Vestal virgins. I can
see them. What's keeping our friend?

He turned.

A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, scattering in all
directions, yelling, their white papers fluttering. Hard after them
Myles Crawford appeared on the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet
face, talking with J. J. O'Molloy.

--Come along, the professor cried, waving his arm.

He set off again to walk by Stephen's side. RETURN OF BLOOM

--Yes, he said. I see them.

Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the
offices of the _Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal_, called:

--Mr Crawford! A moment!

--_Telegraph_! Racing special!

--What is it? Myles Crawford said, falling back a pace.

A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's face:

--Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows!

INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR

--Just this ad, Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps,
puffing, and taking the cutting from his pocket. I spoke with Mr Keyes
just now. He'll give a renewal for two months, he says. After he'll
see. But he wants a par to call attention in the _Telegraph_ too,
the Saturday pink. And he wants it copied if it's not too late I told
councillor Nannetti from the _Kilkenny People_. I can have access to
it in the national library. House of keys, don't you see? His name is
Keyes. It's a play on the name. But he practically promised he'd give
the renewal. But he wants just a little puff. What will I tell him, Mr
Crawford? K.M.A.

--Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing
out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable.

A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm.
Lenehan's yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. Wonder is
that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him
today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in
muck somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown?

--Well, Mr Bloom said, his eyes returning, if I can get the design I
suppose it's worth a short par. He'd give the ad, I think. I'll tell him
... K.M.R.I.A.

--He can kiss my royal