“It's only a woman, Bill,” said the other patiently.
He rose on his knees and looked over the back of the seat. “'Tain't straight. I won't stand it.”
“We won't fight, Bill. We'll get out, if you say so.”
The owner of the giggle was sitting up, as they glided back, Fat Bill leading.
“I'll smash yer face,” the smaller man said to her.
Bill turned and grabbed his collar.
“You come along.”
The woman stared stupidly after, till the swing door closed behind them. Then she put on her hat, decorated with too many disorderly flowers. Most of the sleepers were wakened. The wind outside had died in the night, and the church was quite still. A man in a dress suit and overcoat sat up in a pew beneath a window, and stared about him. His silk hat lay on the floor. He leaned over the back of the seat and spoke to his neighbor, a tramp in checked trousers.
“How'd I g-get here?” he asked thickly.
“Don' know, pardner,” said the tramp cheerfully. “Floated in, same as me?” He caught sight of the white tie and shirt front. “Maybe you'd give a cove a shiner to steady ye out They don't give breakfasts with lodgin's here.”