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!