Benn.—Lizzie, Lizzie, don't tike on so. 'E just stepped in for a minute to get 'is 'andkercher. 'E'd forgot it last night when you sent 'im off. 'E didn't stay but a minute. While I 'unted up the 'andkercher—I'd used it to wipe off the stove by mistake—'e stood there by the window and wrote 'is nime on the pine—just for somethink to do like.
Mrs. Benn (snorting).—That's about all the effort 'e's got the ambition for—to write 'is nime. I like 'is cheek. On my winder, too. (She savagely wipes the pane clean with a corner of her apron and straightens the curtain.) Well, 'e can write 'is nime on a bench in the park to-night for all I care. We're shut of 'im.
Benn (musingly).—It's a good nime, too, Linton. None of your little, cheap nimes—
Mrs. Benn (scornfully).—Like Benn.
