Car. No, I don't fancy I shall feel lonesome.
Kez. I'll (jumps off table, comes round and sits on chair R. and gets book out of drawer) lend you my girl's "Special Monthly Journal." There's a most interestin' tale in this number. It's in 'ere. There's an 'url and 'e goes ridin' through a wood and 'e's all dressed up in armour, you know—just like the dish covers. (Cook crosses to window, gets knife basket and comes down to top of table) I say, Cook, when you lived in London did you ever see any 'urls?
Car. One or two.
Kez. And do they dress themselves up like that?
Car. Not as a rule. (cleaning spoons and putting them in basket)
Kez. My word, I wish I'd bin born a toff! They must find life come easy.
Car. (at top of table) Not always. Trouble is like a postman—sooner or later he knocks at every door.
Kez. Why, they can eat and drink just what they like.
Car. No. After a time their doctors have a word to say.