Miriam, catching Mr. Polly's eye: "Elfrid! This lady knows Canterbury.
I been telling her you been there."

Mr. Polly: "Glad you know it."

The lady shouting: "I like it."

Mrs. Larkins, raising her voice: "I won't '_ave_ my girls spoken of,
not by nobody, old or young."

Pop! imperfectly located.

Mr. Johnson at large: "_Ain't_ the beer up! It's the 'eated room."

Bessie: "Scuse me, sir, passing so soon again, but--" Rest
inaudible. Mr. Polly, accommodating himself: "Urr-oo! Right? Right
O."

The knives and forks, probably by some secret common agreement, clash
and clatter together and drown every other sound.

"Nobody 'ad the least idea 'ow 'E died,--nobody.... Willie, don't
_golp_ so. You ain't in a 'urry, are you? You don't want to ketch a
train or anything,--golping like that!"

"D'you remember, Grace, 'ow one day we 'ad writing lesson...."

"Nicer girls no one ever 'ad--though I say it who shouldn't."