Oh: I'm sorry. Did I make a mistake?
ROBERT. Yus, miss--a whopper.
MARY. Then you're not a . . .
ROBERT. _No_, swelp me Gaw-- [He pulls himself up.] I assure
you, no. I'm a bit of a low un; but I never come so stinkin' low
as that.
You thought I looked like one, all the same. Didn't yer, now?
MARY. Well, you see, I thought you said so; and then there's your
. . .
ROBERT. I know! You don't like my mug. It ain't much of a mug to
look at, is it? Sort of a physog for a thief, eh? See them
lines?--Want to know what them stand for? That's drink, an'
starvation, an' 'ard work, an' a damned lonely life.
MARY. Oh, you poor man!
ROBERT. Yus, miss, I am.
MARY. You mustn't say "damned," you know.
ROBERT. No, miss.
MARY. _That's_ wicked, at any rate.
ROBERT. Yus, miss.
MARY. And you owned yourself that you drank. That's not very
good, either.
ROBERT. No, miss.
MARY. So, you see, you _are_ a little bit naughty, after all,
aren't you?
ROBERT. Yus, miss.
MARY. Now, isn't it much nicer for you to try and look at things
in this way? I'm sure you feel a great deal better already.
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