MANSON. 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.