Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 11 Page 31

Here’s fortune, Blazes said.

He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang.

Hold on, said Lenehan, till I...

Fortune, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.

Sceptre will win in a canter, he said.

I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my own, you know. Fancy of a friend of mine.

Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce’s lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Idolores. The eastern seas.

Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower, wonder who gave), bearing away teatray. Clock clacked.

Miss Douce took Boylan’s