Ulysses by James Joyce Chapter 7 Page 80

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.