And I says, says I, 'Cause I thought she'd look fust-rate,' says I, 'and I think so still.' An' he says, 'DEW yer?
Then ye can just pay for the bloomin' paint yerself,' says he.

An' I 'ad to, too." A murmur of sympathy ran round the room.

Breaking noisily in on it came Bobbie.

She burst open the swing door--crying breathlessly:-- "Bill! I want Bill the Bargeman." There was a stupefied silence.

Pots of beer were held in mid-air, paralysed on their way to thirsty mouths.
"Oh," said Bobbie, seeing the bargewoman and making for her.