The Chequers - Being the Natural History of a Public-House, Set Forth in - a Loafer's Diary by James Runciman
page 35 of 151 (23%)
page 35 of 151 (23%)
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myself in a stinking little box, which was lit by a guttering dip. Some
clothes hung on a line, and these offended more senses than one. No breath of pure air seemed to have blown through that gruesome dwelling for many a day, but I am seasoned, and nothing puts me out much. "Ain't got another seat, mate. Take the bed." The bed was not suggestive of sleep, and I was a trifle uneasy as I sat down; yet I knew it would never do to hesitate, so down I sat. "Wot's this about givin' Teddy the beer?" I made answer. "Ain't got no more 'n two bloomin' dee, but you can have 'em, and thank ye for your trouble." "I have money enough, thanks. A pint isn't much." "Oh, now I knows you. A bloke was a-tellin' me they had a broken-down toff round at The Chequers, and some on 'em says you ain't no more broken down 'n the Lord Mayor. Allus got enough for a 'eavy booze. Anyway, you talks like a toff. I used to git round to the bar, but it don't run to it now. Two kids; and Teddy's clothes there ain't not so easy to buy now. Missus is out charin'. She'll fetch us a bit o' supper, and I makes out middlin' well along o' my pint and bit o' bacca. How's things, mate?" I said that things were flourishing fairly. |
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