I
was 'itched up all right when I spoke to yer this mornin', but bein'
Christmas, things 'ave took a turn with me to-day. [He speaks with
increasing thickness.] I'm reg'lar disgusted--not got the price of a
bed abaht me. Thought you wouldn't like me to be delicate--not at my
age.
WELLWYN. [With a mechanical and distracted dive of his hands into
his pockets.] The fact is, it so happens I haven't a copper on me.
TIMSON. [Evidently taking this for professional refusal.] Wouldn't
arsk you if I could 'elp it. 'Ad to do with 'orses all me life.
It's this 'ere cold I'm frightened of. I'm afraid I'll go to sleep.
WELLWYN. Well, really, I----
TIMSON. To be froze to death--I mean--it's awkward.
WELLWYN. [Puzzled and unhappy.] Well--come in a moment, and let's--
think it out. Have some tea!
[He pours out the remains of the tea, and finding there is not
very much, adds rum rather liberally. TIMSON, who walks a
little wide at the knees, steadying his gait, has followed.]
TIMSON. [Receiving the drink.] Yer 'ealth. 'Ere's--soberiety!
[He applies the drink to his lips with shaking hand.
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