Horace. Nothing. I’m hungry. Are you?
(Tramp brings out a biscuit from his pocket.)
Tramp. Here’s a biscuit I’ve got left. It was given to me by a swell to-night. A real tip-topper. That sort of chap don’t know what hunger is.
Horace. (Eating ravenously) Doesn’t he?
Tramp. Don’t know a place to doss in, do you?
Horace. No.
Tramp. Tough, ain’t it?
Horace. Very.
Tramp. Know where you can get a job in the morning?
Horace. Wish I did.