You tell me he's near reality, but I tell you that his notion of reality is often just a short working day and looking on at a footba'-match on Saturday....

And when you run down what you call the middle-classes that do three-quarters of the world's work and keep the machine going and the working-man in a job, then I tell you you're talking havers.

Havers!" Mr.McCunn, having delivered his defence of the bourgeoisie, rose abruptly and went to bed.

He felt jarred and irritated.

His innocent little private domain had been badly trampled by this stray bull of a poet.