"No."
"He does me."
"I'm sorry to hear it," said I.
"'Cos you think I won't get it—eh?"
"I don't know anything about that."
"Well—I don't think I will. I've got a boy of mine what's in a solicitor's office to write him a letter, but he don't take no notice of it."
"Where did you send it to?" I asked, without any of the eagerness that I felt so strongly mine.
"To a club where he stays sometimes."
"What's the name of it?"
"The Lyric. Who told you he was married?"