"That's Royal Richard wot you can smell, mum," he explained.
Cissie Boye laughed.
Ignoring the interruption, Mrs. Stiffson returned to the attack.
"I demand an explanation!" Her voice shook with suppressed fury.
"Listen!" cried Cissie Boye, "if your boy will come and sleep in my flat——"
"Sleep in your flat!" cried Mrs. Stiffson in something between a roar and a scream. "Sleep in your flat!" She turned upon her husband. "Jabez, did you hear that? Oh! you villain, you liar, you monster!"
"But—but, my dear," protested Mr. Stiffson, becoming articulate, "Oscar was here all the time."
Cissie Boye giggled.
"So that is why you have put on your best clothes, you deceiver, you viper, you scum!"
"Steady on, mum!" broke out Bindle. "'E ain't big enough to be all them things; besides, if you starts a-megaphonin' like that, you'll 'ave all the other bunnies a-runnin' in to see wot's 'appened, an' if you was to 'ear Number Seven's language, an' see wot Queenie calls 'er face, Mr. S. might be a widower before 'e knew it."