. .
[Rapturously]. Why--why, it may cost a man 'is LIFE to deal with
that little job!
VICAR. My God! The thing's impossible!
ROBERT. Impossible! Means a bit of work, that's all!
VICAR. Why, no one would ever dare . . .
ROBERT. Dare! Why, wot d'you think I come 'ere for? . . .
VICAR. _You_! . . .
ROBERT. Yus--makin' myself unpleasant . . .
VICAR. Do you mean . . . Do I understand . . .
ROBERT. I mean as I've found _my place_, or I don't know a good
thing when I see it!
AUNTIE. What! To go into that dreadful vault, and . . .
ROBERT. Why not: ain't it my job?
AUNTIE. But you said--perhaps--_death_ . . .
ROBERT. It's worth it, it's a lovely bit of work!
VICAR. No, ten thousand times, no! The sacrifice is too much!
ROBERT. You call that sacrifice?--It's fun: not 'arf!
VICAR. I had rather see the church itself . . .
ROBERT. What, you call yourself a clergyman!
VICAR. I call myself nothing: I _am_ nothing--less than nothing in
all this living world!
ROBERT. By God, but I call myself summat--I'M THE _DRAIN-MAN_,
THAT'S WOT I AM!
VICAR [feverishly].
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