worse all the time. July, August, and Winter. Them's our seasons. These 'ere immigrants from the 'Ebrides, I wonder wot they'll think of it. They'll find this's a worse place than the one they come from. Might as well be back in the 'Ebrides, I'd s'y. Wot I want to know is, w'y does the Government bring 'em out? Wot are they goin' to do with them? There's enough 'ere now.
Linton.—We need them on the land. (He stretches again and rises). Lord, how stiff I am! A night like last night gets into one's bones. That bench felt pretty hard towards morning. I couldn't help thinking of you so snug and comfortable here.
Benn (anxiously).—Now that you're up, just 'ave a look at the clock. It must be nearly time for the missus.
(Linton draws aside the dingy curtain and peers, with head on one side, out of the window.)
(Linton draws aside the dingy curtain and peers, with head on one side, out of the window.)
