BILL [sullenly] I'm no music hall wrastler. Can he box? SHIRLEY. Yes: an you can't. BILL. Wot! I can't, can't I? Wot's that you say [threatening him]? SHIRLEY [not budging an inch] Will you box Todger Fairmile if I put him on to you? Say the word. BILL. [subsiding with a slouch] I'll stand up to any man alive, if he was ten Todger Fairmiles. But I don't set up to be a perfessional. SHIRLEY [looking down on him with unfathomable disdain] YOU box! Slap an old woman with the back o your hand! You hadn't even the sense to hit her where a magistrate couldn't see the mark of it, you silly young lump of conceit and ignorance. Hit a girl in the jaw and ony make her cry! If Todger Fairmile'd done it, she wouldn't a got up inside o ten minutes, no more than you would if he got on to you. Yah! I'd set about you myself if I had a week's feedin in me instead o two months starvation. [He returns to the table to finish his meal]. BILL [following him and stooping over him to drive the taunt in] You lie! you have the bread and treacle in you that you come here to beg. SHIRLEY [bursting into tears] Oh God! it's true: I'm only an old pauper on the scrap heap. [Furiously] But you'll come to it yourself; and then you'll know. You'll come to it sooner than a teetotaller like me, fillin yourself with gin at this hour o the mornin! BILL. I'm no gin drinker, you old liar; but when I want to give my girl a bloomin good idin I like to av a bit o devil in me: see? An here I am, talkin to a rotten old blighter like you sted o givin her wot for. [Working himself into a rage] I'm goin in there to fetch her out. [He makes vengefully for the shelter door]. SHIRLEY. You're goin to the station on a stretcher, more likely; and they'll take the gin and the devil out of you there when they get you inside. You mind what you're about: the major here is the Earl o Stevenage's granddaughter. BILL [checked] Garn! SHIRLEY. You'll see. BILL [his resolution oozing] Well, I ain't done nothin to er. SHIRLEY. Spose she said you did! who'd believe you? BILL [very uneasy, skulking back to the corner of the penthouse] Gawd! There's no jastice in this country. To think wot them people can do! I'm as good as er. SHIRLEY. Tell her so. It's just what a fool like you would do. Barbara, brisk and businesslike, comes from the shelter with a note book, and addresses herself to Shirley. Bill, cowed, sits down in the corner on a form, and turns his back on them. BARBARA. Good morning. SHIRLEY [standing up and taking off his hat] Good morning, miss. BARBARA. Sit down: make yourself at home. [He hesitates; but she puts a friendly hand on his shoulder and makes him obey]. Now then! since you've made friends with us, we want to know all about you. Names and addresses and trades. SHIRLEY. Peter Shirley. Fitter. Chucked out two months ago because I was too old. BARBARA [not at all surprised] You'd pass still. Why didn't you dye your hair?