(Stooping, picks up and hands a box of matches.) This.
STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks.
BLOOM: (Quietly.) You had better hand over that cash to me to take care of. Why pay more?
STEPHEN: (Hands him all his coins.) Be just before you are generous.
BLOOM: I will but is it wise? (He counts.) One, seven, eleven, and five. Six. Eleven. I don’t answer for what you may have lost.
STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next Lessing says. Thirsty fox. (He laughs loudly.) Burying his grandmother. Probably he killed her.
BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say.