Polly. Oh, yer know yer own business best, of course, but yer'll not be above takin' a 'in! from an old woman that was courted afore yer was born. Yer must make use o' yer charnces. Girls don't like a slow lover. Teddy. I'm not so shy, neither. Polly. Yer not eatin' much. A feller wants a bit o' somethin' as ull stick to 'is ribs when 'e's bin courtin'. Don't forget yer beer. Ain't there no more in jug? (_Teddy drinks up and refills._) Yer'll not get boozed on a drop like that, and who's to care if yer do? Yer at 'ome 'ere. Drink up and 'ave another. Teddy (_pushing plate and glass from him_). I've 'ad enough. (_He rises._) Polly. I'll 'ave somethin' tastier in against yer come termorrer night. I suppose yer'll be 'ere (_Polly rises._) Teddy (_sulkily_). I told Liza I would, but I'm not so sure if I can. Polly. Please yerself. Only yer'll keep 'er warm now yer've got so far if yer'll take my tip. Don't let a girl fancy yer coolin' orf. Now, understand, yer welcome 'ere so long as yer break yerself of that whistlin' 'abit. We'll expect yer termorrer. Teddy. I dunno as I'll be comin'. My mind's not made up yet. Polly. Yer mighty slow abart it. Wot's to do wi' yer? Teddy. Nothing. (_Polly puts her hand on his arm in a friendly way._) Polly. Because yer've no need to feel awkward T' whole thing 'ull be straight forward now. Yer've only to go in and win. Teddy. Yer a bit anxious abart it. Polly. No, Mr. Dawson, no. Not anxious. Teddy (_dogmatically_). Yer a sight too keen set on my winnin' for my taste. Polly (_secretly rejoicing_). Yus. Well, I've took a fancy to yer. Teddy (_slyly_). Sudden like. 'Ere, I've bin thinkin' now, yer said somethin' a while back abart Liza's bein' a 'ot tempered 'un. Polly (_as if much taken aback_). No. Did I? 'Ot tempered did I say? Teddy. Yus. Polly. Well, I can't deny she's a 'igh-spirited girl. Teddy. 'Igh-spirited, eh? Liza didn't never 'ave much ter say for 'erself out in street. Polly (_winking elaborately at him_). That's 'er artfulness. Trust a girl to be careful when she's got 'er eye on a man. Teddy (_moving towards door_). I think I'll go 'ome. Yer've give me a lot to think abart. Polly. I tell you wot, Mr. Dawson, yer slip in fur yer dinner on Sunday. Liza shall cook yer somethin'. She ain't much good at cookin' but you'll enjoy it whatever it's loike when she's cooked it. Me an' the old man 'ull 'ave a walk round Park afterwards an' yer can 'ave the 'ouse to yerself with Liza. See what I mean? Teddy. I don't know as I can come. Polly (_as if deeply disappointed_). Yer a bit slow to my way of thinkin'. I'm doin' my best fur yer. Teddy. Yus. That's just it. Polly. Just what? Teddy. Yer a fat sight too keen to be rid of the girl if yer want it straight. Polly. Don't say that. I'm only tryin' to 'elp yer. Teddy. Yer didn't 'elp blokes wot come after yer other girls only with yer old man's strap. Polly. Oh, but yer a very different sort to them, Mr. Dawson.