Ginger. (His sudden fierceness has completely cowed her.)
Jawbones. You wimmin—
(There re-enters Mrs. Chinn with a tray. He is between them.)
That’s old Sigsby’s chop?
Mrs. Chinn. Yes. He hasn’t gone out again, has he?
Jawbones. I’ll ’ave it. Get ’im another. Guess ’e won’t be back for ’alf an hour.
Mrs. Chinn. He’s nasty when his food ain’t ready.
Jawbones. (He takes the tray from her.) Not your fault. Tell ’im I took it from you by brute force.
Mrs. Chinn. (She acquiesces with her usual even absence of all emotion.)
Jawbones. You needn’t stop. Miss Rose Merton will do the waiting.