"Oh! you think so, do you!" snapped Mrs. Bindle.
"I was listenin' to 'em one afternoon in Regent's Park," remarked Bindle. "Silly sort o' lot they seemed to me."
"You're nothing but a heathen yourself," accused Mrs. Bindle.
"As long as a cove keeps 'is religion to 'imself, I don't see it matters to nobody wot 'e thinks, any more than whether 'e wears blue or pink pants under his trousers."
"Don't be disgusing, Bindle," snapped Mrs. Bindle.
"Disgustin'! what's disgustin'?"
"Talking of what you talked of," replied Mrs. Bindle with asperity.
"Well, I'm blowed!" said Bindle. "There you 'angs 'em on the line on Mondays for everybody to see, and yet you mustn't talk about 'em; well, I'm blowed!" he repeated.
"What do they say in the park?" questioned Mrs. Bindle curiously.
"Oh! they says a lot o' things," replied Bindle. "Personally myself I think the atheists is the funniest. There was one cove there wot was very thin, and very anxious-looking. Said 'e wouldn't insult 'is intelligence by believin' the things wot preachers said, so I put a question to 'im."