“I’ve got a bob a gent give me, and twopence, my half of what we got for the bones me and ’Lisbeth sold.”
“Ah? I’m a poor suffering woman, and I do say things sometimes as I don’t mean,” whined the wretched creature. “Give me the money, dear, and let me go.”
“If I give it to yer, you won’t say no more about my coming away?”
“No, dear; I only want to see you happy.”
“Well, there, then,” he said, giving her the coins; “and, I say—”
“Yes, my precious.”
“You ain’t to spend none of it in gin.”
“Gin? Oh, no, my dear.”
“Get some pudding out of Holborn, and a saveloy; and, I say, mother, get yourself a bit o’ tea.”
“Yes, my darling.”