Chawles (under notice). Well, thank 'Eving, I shan't have to share the responsibility of her much longer!
'Arriet (to Arry). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at like they are.
'Arry. Bless your 'art—they don't mind—they like it. They'll go 'ome and s'y (in falsetto) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' on a lookin' at us through the winder—it was proime!"
'Arriet (giggling admiringly). 'Ow do you know the w'y they tork?
'Arry (superior). Why, they don't tork partickler different from what you and me tork—do they?
First Mechanic. See all them old blokes in red with the rum 'ats, Bill? They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.
Second M. What do they do when they git there?
First M. Do? oh, mind the bloomin' stair-case, and chuck out them as don't beyave themselves.
A Restless Lady (to her husband). Harry, I don't like this place at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try and squeeze in somewhere lower down ... No, this is worse—that horrid tobacco! Suppose we cross over to the Palace? [They do so.
A Policeman. Too late to cross now, Sir—go back please.