BISHOP. Well, my dear sir, I think I ought to!
ROBERT. Then, go there! Aymen . . .
Now I'll go an' 'av' a look at our Bill's drains, damn 'is eyes!
[He goes out through the main door, repentant.]
BISHOP. The scoundrel! Did you hear what he said? I shall
certainly report him to his bishop!
MANSON. I don't think I should. _His_ bishop doesn't mind a
little plain speech now and again.
BISHOP. A little plain speech! Do you think it's right for a
clergyman to--to direct me to perdition?
MANSON. I think you are making a mistake: the man who gave you
your--direction is not a clergyman. He's a scavenger.
BISHOP. A scavenger!
MANSON. Yes--looks after drains.
BISHOP. Do you mean to tell me that I've been sitting down to
breakfast with a common working-man?
MANSON. Yes; have you never done that before?
BISHOP. My dear sir, whatever do you take me for?
MANSON. A bishop of God's church.
BISHOP. Precisely! Is it _your_ custom to breakfast with
working-men?
MANSON. Every morning. You see, I'm prejudiced: I was one myself,
once.
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