"Yass! Pline hair-colour."
"What's her eyes?" But this is too difficult. Lizarann gives it up. To say plain eye-colour would be poor and unoriginal. However, particulars could be given of Bridgettickses eyes, apart from questions of their colour.
"She can squint, she can. Yass—acrost!"
"She don't want to it—not she!"
"Don't she want to it, Daddy?" A timid expression of doubt this. "I said—I said—to Bridgetticks...."
"Hurry up, little lass! What was it ye said?"
"I said—to Bridgetticks—I said the boys said she couldn't be off of it, they did. That's what the boys said."
"And she said they was liars, I'll go bail. Hay, little lass?"
"She said they was liars. Yass!" And then the difficulties of negotiating the passage across Cazenove Street, where they had by this time arrived, stopped the conversation.
When the couple were safely landed on the opposite pavement, talk went on again. Jim's image of Bridgetticks had not been improved by Lizarann's description. And an incident of her narrative had caused him to picture to himself a terrifying vision of her.