She'm like a Christian.
STRANGWAY. The beasts are.
JIM. There's plenty folk ain't 'alf as Christian as 'er be.
STRANGWAY. Well, dear Jim, I'll do my very best. And any time you're lonely, come up, and I'll play the flute to you.
JIM. [Wriggling slightly] No, zurr. Thank 'ee, zurr.
STRANGWAY. What—don't you like music?
JIM. Ye-es, zurr. [A figure passes the window. Seeing it he says with his slow smile] "'Ere's Mrs. Bradmere, comin' from the Rectory." [With queer malice] She don't like cats. But she'm a cat 'erself, I think.
STRANGWAY. [With his smile] Jim!
JIM. She'm always tellin' me I'm lukin' better. I'm not better, zurr.
STRANGWAY. That's her kindness.