"One seems to have been quite enough for you," said Patsy, with a light of battle in eyes no longer dreamy.
"I don't deny as I 'ad a bob myself to spend," said the ruffian. "'Ere, you, Georgie! You wake up, you lazy young devil! 'Tis time we was on the road."
Patsy stepped between the man and the child who had come out of his sleep with a cry of fear. He put a open hand on Mr. Baker's chest and pushed him backward. Somewhat contrary to his expectations the man did not resent his action, beyond remarking that no one had the right to interfere between a man and his kid.
"Now it comes to that," he said, with a sudden change to jocularity, "if so be as you've a fancy for 'er I'd sell her for five quid an' throw in the kid. It's no catch draggin' 'em round an' me 'avin' to carry the cans 'arf the time because o' your blasted coppers."
The full enormity of the speech seemed to reveal itself only gradually to Patsy's mind. He turned red and then pale. The poor woman was quivering as though a lash had struck her.
"You're a bad brute," said Patsy quietly. "The woman's too good for you."
"You can 'ave her for nothink if you like. She never was much good to me."
He sat down suddenly in the chair Georgie had left empty.
"I want to see your boss," he said: and his tone was bullying.
"I was thinkin' about that myself," said Patsy.