Our Reporter (shocked): Fanny!
Fanny: Wot’s the matter?
Our Reporter: You don’t drink, I hope?
Fanny: Yes, I does—but not what Bob the Swell drinks. I likes water with raspberry jam in it, stirred up. I ’ad some white satin once, but it made me sick. That night Bob drinks beer, and the other gals too. I was genteel; I ’ad lemonade. I got a wollopin’ when I got ’ome. Mother was waitin’ for me outside the Good Sir Mary Tun; I tried to dodge ’er, but it was no go; she caught me and give it me. “That’ll teach yer,” she said, “to leave your pore mother with a throat as dry as a salt ’erring, while you go gallivantin’ about with a parcel of boys!” I didn’t mind; it was worth the wollopin’.
Our Reporter: Now, let us talk about Blanche.
Fanny: Yes. ’Ow late she is to-night!
Our Reporter: Have you known her long, Fanny?
Fanny: Ever since she’s bin ’ere.
Our Reporter: About three months?
Fanny: I can’t count. It was a ’ot night—late, and I was cryin’; I couldn’t help it—I wos ’ungry, and mother ’ad been givin’ it to me. Blanche comes up, and arks a lot of questions—just the same as you’ve been doin’; then she brings me ’ome ’ere, and I’ve slept with ’er ever since.