“I want to bathe,” Shirley pleaded.
“Can’t bathe ’ere,” said the man in shirt-sleeves.
“You don’t know about us,” said Venice severely. “We can bath anywhere.”
“Against the lor, miss.”
“That will be all right about the law.” A sudden voice, a calm voice, a cold, chill murmur. It fell from heights like a douche. The man in shirt-sleeves tried not to have to look up all the way to Guy’s face. Too tall was Guy, in that light. Guy smiled down at the man in shirt-sleeves.
“Hot night,” Guy murmured. “Very hot. My children, all these....”
“Ho,” said the man in shirt-sleeves. “’Ot or cold, it’s against the lor, that’s wot.”
“Don’t you worry your head about the law,” said Guy. “But what you might do, now, would be to get us some towels. We forgot towels....”
“Against the lor, anyhow,” said the man in shirt-sleeves.
“I do wish you’d say something else just once,” snapped Shirley.