--Yes, sir.

Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.

--Doing any singing those times?

Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear. Flap ears to match.
Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him. Does
no harm. Free ad.

--She's engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard
perhaps.

--No. O, that's the style. Who's getting it up?

The curate served.

--How much is that?

--Seven d., sir ... Thank you, sir.

Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. MR MACTRIGGER. Easier
than the dreamy creamy stuff. HIS FIVE HUNDRED WIVES. HAD THE TIME OF
THEIR LIVES.

--Mustard, sir?

--Thank you.

He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. THEIR LIVES. I have it.