“You must lie down,” said the suffragette. “And I will fetch the doctor to sew up your eye.”
“Bless yer ...” crowed the invalid. “S’long as I’ve got legs to walk to the doctor on, you kin bet yer life ’e won’t walk to me. I’ll go’n see ’im, soon’s as I stop bein’ all of a tremble.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“As you please.”
Miss Wigsky escaped.
“Why do you allow that man to be drunk in here?” asked the suffragette after a pause.
“’E don’t arsk my leave.”
“Is he your husband?”
“No. ’E is in a manner of speakin’. But I wouldn’t really marry a soppy bloke like thet.”
“Then why do you have soppy blokes crowding you out of your own furniture?”