“Oh—why!” He was rather ironic. “Well, it’s not my line at all. I’m not a film-operator!” And he put his head on one side with a grimace of contempt and superiority.
“But you are, as well,” said Alvina.
“Yes, as well. But not only! You may wash the dishes in the scullery. But you’re not only the char, are you?”
“But is it the same?” cried Alvina.
“Of cauce!” cried Mr. May. “Of cauce it’s the same.”
Alvina laughed, a little heartlessly, into his pallid, stricken eyes.
“But what will you do?” she asked.
“I shall have to look for something else,” said the injured but dauntless little man. “There’s nothing else, is there?”
“Wouldn’t you stay on?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t think of it. I wouldn’t think of it.” He turtled like an injured pigeon.