"What do you want here?"
"Nothin' partickler. If the young gal inside knows I'm here, she'll send out somethin' prime. That's all. Last thing, afore she goes to bed, she comes and looks, mostly. She's a good 'un."
"Ah! you'd better go home."
"Can't manage to make it up tuppence—and square the last penny with Mother Watts. You know Mother Watts?"
"Ah!"
"Well, she's down upon me, Watts is—so I can't go home."
"You must go somewhere—you can't stop here."
"Lor bless you, this is the comfortablest doorway in the street, if you don't mind, p'leesman. I often turn in here for the night, and some of you fine fellers lets a gal bide, and ain't so down upon her as you are. You're new to this beat."
"Am I, really?" was the ironical rejoinder.
"You used to do Kent Street and stir up Mother Watts. You locked up Mother Watts once—don't you remember?"