T. Not more than mine!

MARY. What's yours?

ROBERT. What's yours?

MARY. _I want my father_!

ROBERT. I WANT MY LITTLE KID!

[There is a second's pause.]

MARY. Your--what? . . .

ROBERT [brokenly]. My--daughter.

MARY. Oh! . . .

[She goes towards him: they face each other.]

[Softly.] Is she dead?

[He stands looking at her.]

Is she?

[He turns away from her.]

ROBERT. Fur as I am concerned--yus.

MARY. What do you mean? _Isn't_ she dead?

ROBERT. She's alive, right enough.

MARY. Perhaps--perhaps she ran away? . . .

ROBERT. She got took.

MARY. How do you mean--gypsies?

ROBERT. I _give_ 'er up. 'Ad to.

MARY. Why?

ROBERT. Look at me! . . .

_That_--an' the drink, an' the low wages, an' my ole woman dyin'!
That's why I give 'er up.

MARY. Where is she now?

ROBERT. Never you mind. She's bein' looked arfter.

MARY. By whom?

ROBERT. By people as I've allus 'ated like poison!

MARY. Why, aren't they kind to her?

ROBERT. Yus: they've made 'er summat, as I couldn't 'a' done.

MARY. Then why do you hate them ?

ROBERT. I don't any longer. I 'ates myself, I 'ates the world I
live in, I 'ates the bloomin' muck 'ole I've landed into!

MARY. Your wife's dead, you say?

ROBERT. Yus.

MARY. What would she think about it all?

ROBERT [hollowly, without variation]. I don't know: I don't know:
I don't know.

[MARY sits down beside him.]

MARY [thoughtfully]. Isn't it strange--both our wishes alike! You
want your little girl; and I, my father!

ROBERT. What sort of a . . .

MARY. Yes?

ROBERT. What sort of a bloke might your father be, miss?

MARY. I don't know. I have never seen him.

ROBERT. Got no idea? Never--'eard _tell_ of 'im?

MARY. Never.

ROBERT. 'Aven't thought of 'im yourself, I s'pose? Wasn't
particular worth while, eh?

MARY. It's not that. I've been selfish. I never thought anything
about him until to-day.

ROBERT. What made you think of 'im--to-day?

MARY. I can't quite say. At least . . .

ROBERT. Mebbe 'e wrote--sent a telingram or summat, eh?--t' say as
'e was comin'?

MARY [quickly]. Oh no: he never writes: we never hear from him.
That's perhaps a bit selfish of him, too, isn't it?

ROBERT [after a moment]. Looks like it, don't it?

MARY. But I don't think he can be really selfish, after all.

ROBERT [with a ray of brightness]. Cos why?

MARY. Because he must be rather like m