hungry too. Flakes of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Josie Powell that was. In Luke Doyle’s long ago. Dolphin’s Barn, the charades. U. p: up.

Change the subject.

Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked.

Mina Purefoy? she said.

Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers’ Club. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act.

Yes.

I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She’s in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in.