(_There re-enters_ MRS. CHINN _with a tray_. _He is between them_.)
That’s old Sigsby’s chop?
MRS. CHINN. Yes. He hasn’t gone out again, has he?
JAWBONES. I’ll ’ave it. Get ’im another. Guess ’e won’t be back for
’alf an hour.
MRS. CHINN. He’s nasty when his food ain’t ready.
JAWBONES. (_He takes the tray from her_.) Not your fault. Tell ’im I
took it from you by brute force.
MRS. CHINN. (_She acquiesces with her usual even absence of all
emotion_.)
JAWBONES. You needn’t stop. Miss Rose Merton will do the waiting.