John: As soon as you can get off will you come upstairs?
Rosie: Yes. (She hesitates. Then:) ... I’m sorry—what I said. It’s kind o’ yer; then, you’re kind all right ... and if you’re a bit orf, you can’t ’elp it; I mean, you can’t really know—can yer?... It’s an awful thing to ’appen to anyone ... you gets to ’ate yerself.
Gwen: Oh no. (She adds, rather lightly to help:) After all, it might happen to any of us.
Rosie (fiercely): Don’t you never let it ’appen to you, miss. You take care you ’as ’im, safe, ’e’ll marry yer, before you does anything. Me! I lied awake all last night. Throw myself in the river—that’s about what I’m fit for now.
Gwen: Rosie!
Rosie: Well, other girls do, don’t they? Nobody couldn’t blame me then; p’r’aps they’d be sorry.... ’Ere, I must get. That old cook’ll be after me. She’s a one. Work’s something; stops yer thinkin’.
John: As soon as you’re finished, you’ll come back.
Rosie: Yes, sir.
John (gently but firmly): Now, look here, Rosie; you’ve told us and you’re not alone any more. And we’re going to stand by you and see you safe. See? Whatever happens, we’ll see you safe right through and out the other side.
Rosie: It’s kind o’ yer.