Yes, that's all.
ROBERT [largely]. Sit dahn, ole pal! Mek yourself at 'ome!
[MANSON obeys.]
See, wot was I tawkin' abaht. Just afore you turned narsty?
MANSON. You were going to say something about--your little girl's
mother.
[ROBERT'S cutlery bristles up like bayonets.]
ROBERT. Look 'ere, mate, don't you come tryin' it on with me! I
don't care _oo_ you are!
MANSON. I know that.
ROBERT. Then let me be, I tell yer! You tek all the taste out o'
my sossingers.
MANSON. I should like to hear about her, comrade.
ROBERT. _You_ cawn't bring 'er back. She's dead.
MANSON. What was her name?
ROBERT. Mary--same as the little gel's.
MANSON. I wonder whether they are anything alike.
ROBERT. That's wot I come to see! . . .
She 'ad 'er mother's nose when she was a biby--_and_ 'er eyes!
Gorstrike, she was the very spit--far as a biby could be! . . .
Swelp me Moses, if I find 'er anything like Bill's ole geezer, I'll
cut 'er throat!
MANSON. And if she's like her mother? What then?
ROBERT.
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