Whose inebriety has reached the argumentative stage. Working classhes! Don’ talk t’ me ’bout th’ working classhes!
Jimmie.
H’sh! Shut up, Bertie.
Fulkerson.
I’m s’h’ick o’ th’ ve’y mention o’ th’ name—working classhes!
Jimmie.
Sit on his head, somebody. We shall wake Ma and the servants.
Lily.
Taking off her wrap and hanging it up in the wardrobe. Don’t worry; you won’t wake my servants. And mother’s bound to hear us; she sleeps so lightly when I’m out.
Daphne.