You can throw them into the waste-paper basket.
GINGER [She obeys.]
JAWBONES Thank you. Very much obliged. One of these d'ys, maybe,
you'll marry.
GINGER When I do, it will be a man, not a monkey.
JAWBONES I'm not proposing. I'm talking to you for your good.
GINGER [Snorts.]
JAWBONES You've been listening to a lot of toffs. Easy enough for
them to talk about wimmen not being domestic drudges. They keep a
cook to do it. They don't pity 'e for being a down-trodden slive,
spending sixteen hours a d'y in THEIR kitchen with an evening out
once a week. When you marry it will be to a bloke like me, a
working man . . .
GINGER Working! [She follows it with a shrill laugh.]
JAWBONES Yus. There's always a class as laughs when you mention
the word "work." Them as knows wot it is, don't. I've been at it
since six o'clock this morning, carrying a ladder, a can of paste
weighing twenty pounds, and two 'undred double royal posters. You
try it! When 'e comes 'ome, 'e'll want 'is victuals.
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