You thought I looked like one, all the same. Didn't yer, now?
MARY. Well, you see, I thought you said so; and then there's your . . .
ROBERT. I know! You don't like my mug. It ain't much of a mug to look at, is it? Sort of a physog for a thief, eh? See them lines?—Want to know what them stand for? That's drink, an' starvation, an' 'ard work, an' a damned lonely life.
MARY. Oh, you poor man!
ROBERT. Yus, miss, I am.
MARY. You mustn't say "damned," you know.
ROBERT. No, miss.
MARY. That's wicked, at any rate.
ROBERT. Yus, miss.
MARY. And you owned yourself that you drank. That's not very good, either.