Part 9 (2/2)

ROBERT. Well, why cawn't yer arnser a bloke when 'e arsks yer civil?

MANSON. You didn't make it dear that you wanted to eat with me.

ROBERT. Want a bit of 'eart in it, eh?

MANSON. Yes, that's all.

ROBERT [largely]. Sit dahn, ole pal! Mek yourself at 'ome!

[MANSON obeys.]

See, wot was I tawkin' abaht. Just afore you turned narsty?

MANSON. You were going to say something about--your little girl's mother.

[ROBERT'S cutlery bristles up like bayonets.]

ROBERT. Look 'ere, mate, don't you come tryin' it on with me! I don't care _oo_ you are!

MANSON. I know that.

ROBERT. Then let me be, I tell yer! You tek all the taste out o'

my sossingers.

MANSON. I should like to hear about her, comrade.

ROBERT. _You_ cawn't bring 'er back. She's dead.

MANSON. What was her name?

ROBERT. Mary--same as the little gel's.

MANSON. I wonder whether they are anything alike.

ROBERT. That's wot I come to see! . . .

She 'ad 'er mother's nose when she was a biby--_and_ 'er eyes!

Gorstrike, she was the very spit--far as a biby could be! . . .

Swelp me Moses, if I find 'er anything like Bill's ole geezer, I'll cut 'er throat!

MANSON. And if she's like her mother? What then?

ROBERT. Why, then . . . there's allus my own. I nearly did it once.

MANSON [after a pause]. How did you come to lose her?

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