“You’re not a London girl.”
“No; Yorkshire.”
“I’m from Lancashire.”
“Eeh! lad,” she said, her whole voice altering and deepening into an astonishingly full note, “are ye fra’ Lancashire? Eeh! a’m fair clemmed wi’ London. Eeh! I am glad ye coom fra’ Lancashire.”
“What are you doing in London?”
“I’m working in Oxford Street, though not one of the big shops.”
“Like it?”
“M’m! Well enough.”
“Of course you don’t, handing out laces and ribbons——”