my lungs--my feet didn't seem to belong to me--and as for my head and
nose! [_Yawns._] Well, smoke's good--by the powers, I'm getting warm--come
closer to it, Mary. It's a little after midnight now--and I left home,
this fine, luxurious British home, just as soon as it was light. And I've
tramped the streets all day. Net result, a policeman gave me a pipeful of
tobacco, I lunched off a bit of bread that I saw floating down the
gutter--and I dined off the kitchen smell of the Café Royal. That's my
day.

MARY. [_Stroking his hand._] Poor boy, poor boy!

JOE. I stood for an hour in Leicester Square when the theatres emptied,
thinking I might earn a copper, calling a cab, or something. There they
were, all streaming out, happy and clean and warm--broughams and
motor-cars--supper at the Savoy and the Carlton--and a hundred or two of
us others in the gutter, hungry--looking at them. They went off to their
supper--it was pouring, and I got soaked--and there I stood, dodging the
policemen, dodging the horses' heads and the motors--and it was
always--get away, you loafer, get away--get away--get away--

MARY. We've done nothing to deserve it, Joe--

JOE. [_With sudden fury._] Deserve it! What have I ever done wrong! Wasn't
_my_ fault the firm went bankrupt and I couldn't get another job. I've a
first-rate character--I'm respectable--what's the use? I want to
work--they won't let me!

MARY. That illness of mine ate up all our savings. O Joe, I wish I had
died!