"Steady on," admonished Bindle, "or you'll 'ave the Duck out o' bed."
"What must 'e think of me with such an 'usband?" Mrs. Bindle's aitches were dropping from her under the stress of her pent-up feelings.
"Well! speakin' for myself," said Bindle, relighting his pipe, which had gone out, "he most likely thinks you're an uncommon lucky woman. You see, Lizzie," Bindle continued evenly, "you're fickle, that's wot's the matter with you."
Mrs. Bindle paused in the act of pouring water over the piled-up dishes in the sink.
"As soon as you sees another cove wot takes your fancy, you sort o' loses your taste for your own 'usband."
Bindle seated himself at the table and spread out the evening paper.
"First it's 'Earty, then it's Gupperduck. Now I ask you, Mrs. B., wot would you think if I was to say we must 'ave a woman lodger? Now I ask you!"
"That's quite different," cried Mrs. Bindle angrily. "Mr. Gupperduck is——"
"A sort o' prayer-'og in trousers, judgin' from 'is talk," interrupted Bindle. "Me an' 'im ain't goin' to fall out, though you did give 'im a extra dose o' gravy; at the same time we ain't goin' to fall in love with each other. If 'e pays 'is rent an' behaves quiet like, then I 'aven't nothink to say, for wot's an 'ome without a lodger; but it's got to be 'ands orf my missis, see!"
"Bindle, you're a dirty-minded beast," retorted Mrs. Bindle, snapping her jaws viciously.