“Very good,” said Mr. Simpson; “I agree. Who is there?”
“Me and my wife and Mrs. Simpson,” said Mr. Cooper.
“He is smacking his lips,” whispered Mrs. Cooper. “Having a go at the beer, perhaps.”
“Let's go back fifteen years,” said Mr. Simpson in meditative tones. “Do you remember that girl with copper-coloured hair that used to live in John Street?”
“No!” said Mr. Cooper, loudly and suddenly.
“Do you remember coming to me one day—two days after Valentine Day, it was—white as chalk and shaking like a leaf, and—”
“NO!” roared Mr. Cooper.
“Very well, I must try something else, then,” said Mr. Simpson, philosophically. “Carry your mind back ten years, Bob Cooper—”
“Look here!” said Mr. Cooper, turning round with a ghastly smile. “We'd better get off home, Mary. I don't like interfering in other people's concerns. Never did.”
“You stay where you are,” said his wife.