BELLA: (Loudly.) Here, none of your tall talk. This isn’t a brothel. A ten shilling house.

BLOOM: (His head under the lamp, pulls the chain. Pulling, the gasjet lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. He raises the ashplant.) Only the chimney’s broken. Here is all he...

BELLA: (Shrinks back and screams.) Jesus! Don’t!

BLOOM: (Warding off a blow.) To show you how he hit the paper. There’s not sixpenceworth of damage done. Ten shillings!

FLORRY: (With a glass of water, enters.) Where is he?

BELLA: Do you want me to call the police?

BLOOM: O, I know.

Bulldog on the premises. But he’s