MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Poor thing! But we must run, for you'll be having some
last words to say to her.'

DOWEY. 'I kept her out long on purpose so as to have less time to say
them in.'

He more than half wishes that he could make a bolt to a public-house.

MRS. TWYMLEY. 'It's the best way.' In the important affairs of life
there is not much that any one can teach a charwoman. 'Just a mere
nothing, to wish you well, Mr. Dowey.'

All three present him with the cigarettes.

MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'A scraping, as one might say.'

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'The heart,' enigmatically, 'is warm though it may
not be gold-tipped.'

DOWEY. 'You bricks!'

THE LADIES. 'Good luck, cocky.'

DOWEY. 'The same to you. And if you see a sodger man up there in a kilt,
he is one that is going back with me. Tell him not to come down,
but--but to give me till the last minute, and then to whistle.'

It is quite a grave man who is left alone, thinking what to do next. He
tries a horse laugh, but that proves of no help. He says 'Hell!' to