Glory tried to laugh and to return the salutation over the noises of the people and the clangour of the bells. And then Aggie put her face close, as women do who are accustomed to talking in the streets, and said: “Thought we'd seen the lahst of you, my dear, when you went off that night sudden. Selling programmes somewhere else now?”
“Something of that sort,” said Glory.
“I'm not. I've been left the old red church this fortnight and more. Charlie's got me on the clubs. But my word!” turning to Charlie, “it's her as oughter be there, my dear!”
“She cheeks me out,” said Charlie, “as you'll knock the stuffing out of Betty Bellman 'erself if you once myke a stawt.”
And Aggie said: “I might get you to do a turn almost any Sunday, if you like, my dear. There's always somebody as down't come, and they're glad of an extra turn to tyke the number if she's only clever enough to get a few 'ands. Going 'ome, dear?”
“Yes,” said Glory.
“Where d'ye live?” said Aggie, and Glory told her.
“I'll call for you Sunday night at eight, and if you down't tyke your chawnce when you get it, you're a foolisher woman than I thought you were, that's stright! By-bye!”