“It ain't one o' my innercent enjoyments,” I ses, “and I don't want to get the credit of it. If they hadn't been sitting in a pub all the evening they'd 'ave spotted you at once.”
“Oh!” he ses, very huffy. “How?”
“Your voice,” I ses. “You try and mimic a poll-parrot, and think it's like me. And, for another thing, you walk about as though you're stuffed with sawdust.”
“I beg your pardon,” he ses; “the voice and the walk are exact. Exact.”
“Wot?” I ses, looking 'im up and down. “You stand there and 'ave the impudence to tell me that my voice is like that?”
“I do,” he ses.
“Then I'm sorry for you,” I ses. “I thought you'd got more sense.”
He stood looking at me and gnawing 'is finger, and by and by he ses, “Are you married?” he ses.
“I am,” I ses, very short.
“Where do you live?” he ses.