Echoes of the War

by J. M. Barrie

The little soul is too gallant to break down in company. She hurries into the pantry and shuts the door.

MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Poor thing! But we must run, for you'll be having some last words to say to her.'

DOWEY. 'I kept her out long on purpose so as to have less time to say them in.'

He more than half wishes that he could make a bolt to a public-house.

MRS. TWYMLEY. 'It's the best way.' In the important affairs of life there is not much that any one can teach a charwoman. 'Just a mere nothing, to wish you well, Mr. Dowey.'

All three present him with the cigarettes.

MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'A scraping, as one might say.'

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'The heart,' enigmatically, 'is warm though it may not be gold-tipped.'

DOWEY. 'You bricks!'

THE LADIES. 'Good luck, cocky.'