'I reckon they 'as a bloody fine time of it, an' we've got to find the money.' 'Oh, for God's sake don't start no more arguments,' cried Harlow, addressing Owen.

'We 'ad enough of that last week.

You can't expect a boss to employ a man when 'e's too old to work.' 'Of course not,' said Crass.
Philpot said--nothing.
'I don't see no sense in always grumblin',' Crass proceeded.

'These things can't be altered.

You can't expect there can be plenty of work for everyone with all this 'ere labour-savin' machinery what's been invented.' 'Of course,' said Harlow, 'the people what used to be employed on the work what's now done by machinery, has to find something else to do.
Some of 'em goes to our trade, for instance: the result is there's too many at it, and there ain't enough work to keep 'em all goin'.' 'Yes,' cried Crass, eagerly.