"- Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the second.
- I was just going to throw it away, Mr Bloom said.
Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.
- What's that? his sharp voice said.
- I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away that moment.
Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.
- I'll risk it, he said. Here, thanks.
He sped off towards Conway's corner. God speed scut." (U5.531)