You send 'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it
comes from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in
Befnal Green.
"She's awfully virtuous, though, isn't she?"--"'Tisn't so much the bein'
virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's awful."
THE PRESS shakes his head. Still--it's an easy life! I've regretted
sometimes that I didn't have a shot at it myself; influencin' other
people without disclosin' your identity--something very attractive about
that.
If I'd bin Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the Press's gas cut 'orf at the
meter. Puffect liberty, of course, nao Censorship; just sy wot yer like-
-an' never be 'eard of no more.
THE SKIN GAME
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