Part 18

GINGER. All right, I was only going to throw the slops out of window. There ain’t no basin.

JAWBONES. I’ll tell yer when I want yer to open the window and call for the p’lice. You can throw them into the waste-paper basket.

GINGER. (She obeys.)

JAWBONES. Thank you. Very much obliged. One of these d’ys, maybe, you’ll marry.

GINGER. When I do, it will be a man, not a monkey.

JAWBONES. I’m not proposing. I’m talking to you for your good.

GINGER. (Snorts.)

JAWBONES. You’ve been listening to a lot of toffs. Easy enough for them to talk about wimmen not being domestic drudges. They keep a cook to do it. They don’t pity ’e for being a down-trodden slive, spending sixteen hours a d’y in their kitchen with an evening out once a week. When you marry it will be to a bloke like me, a working man . . .

GINGER. Working! (She follows it with a shrill laugh.)

JAWBONES. Yus. There’s always a class as laughs when you mention the word “work.” Them as knows wot it is, don’t. I’ve been at it since six o’clock this morning, carrying a ladder, a can of paste weighing twenty pounds, and two ’undred double royal posters. You try it! When ’e comes ’ome, ’e’ll want ’is victuals. If you’ve got ’em ready for ’im and are looking nice—no reason why you shouldn’t—and feeling amiable, you’ll get on very well together. If you are going to argue with ’im about woman’s sphere, you’ll get the worst of it.

GINGER. You always was a bully.

JAWBONES. Not always. Remember last Bank ’oliday? (He winks.)

GINGER. (She tries not to give in.)

JAWBONES. ’Ave a cup of tea. (He pours it out for her.)

GINGER. (The natural woman steals in—she sits.)

JAWBONES. ’Ow are they doing you, fairly well?

GINGER. Oh! Well, nothing to grumble at.

JAWBONES. You can do a bit o’ dressing on it.

GINGER. (She meets his admiring eye. The suffragette departs.) Dressing don’t cost much—when you’ve got tyste.

JAWBONES. Wot! Not that ’at?

GINGER. Made it myself.

JAWBONES. No!

GINGER. Honour bright! Tell yer—

(GEOFFREY and ST. HERBERT enter. JAWBONES and GINGER make to rise. GINGER succeeds.)

GEOFFREY. All right, all right. Don’t let me disturb the party. Where’s Mr. Sigsby?

JAWBONES. Gone to look up the police, I think, sir. (Having finished, he rises.) Some of those factory girls been up to their larks again.

GEOFFREY. Umph! What’s it about this time?

JAWBONES. They’ve took objection to one of our posters.