"A wot, sir?" enquired Bindle.
"Do you believe in kings?"
"I believe in our King." There was decision in Bindle's voice. "'E's a sport, same as 'is father was. I'm sick of all this talk about a republic." Disgust was clearly expressed upon Bindle's face and in his voice. "Down at the yard they're always jawin' about the revolution wot's comin'."
"I don't 'old wiv kings," broke in Ginger. "There's goin' to be a revolution."
"'Ullo Ging, you woke up? Well ole son, wot's wrong wi' George Five?"
"Look wot 'e corsts, an' you an' me 'as to pay, an' everything goin' up like 'ell."
"'Ush, Ginger, 'ush, there's a lady 'ere."
Ginger looked awkwardly at Sallie, who smiled her reassurance.
"'I s'pose, Ginger, yer thinks you're goin' to get a republic with a pound o' tea," said Bindle good-humouredly.
"There's goin' to be a revolution," persisted Ginger doggedly. Ginger logic is repetition. "After the war," he added.