talkin to a rotten old blighter like you sted
o givin her wot for. [Working himself into a rage] I'm goin in
there to fetch her out. [He makes vengefully for the shelter
door].

SHIRLEY. You're goin to the station on a stretcher, more likely;
and they'll take the gin and the devil out of you there when they
get you inside. You mind what you're about: the major here is the
Earl o Stevenage's granddaughter.

BILL [checked] Garn!

SHIRLEY. You'll see.

BILL [his resolution oozing] Well, I ain't done nothin to er.

SHIRLEY. Spose she said you did! who'd believe you?

BILL [very uneasy, skulking back to the corner of the penthouse]
Gawd! There's no jastice in this country. To think wot them
people can do! I'm as good as er.

SHIRLEY. Tell her so. It's just what a fool like you would do.

Barbara, brisk and businesslike, comes from the shelter with a
note book, and addresses herself to Shirley. Bill, cowed, sits
down in the corner on a form, and turns his back on them.

BARBARA. Good morning.

SHIRLEY [standing up and taking off his hat] Good morning, miss.

BARBARA. Sit down: make yourself at home. [He hesitates; but she
puts a friendly hand on his shoulder and makes him obey]. Now
then! since you've made friends with us, we want to know all
about you. Names and addresses and trades.

SHIRLEY. Peter Shirley. Fitter. Chucked out two months ago
because I was too old.

BARBARA [not at all surprised] You'd pass still. Why didn't you
dye your hair?

SHIRLEY. I did. Me age come out at a coroner's inquest on me
daughter.

BARBARA. Steady?

SHIRLEY. Teetotaller. Never out of a job before. Good worker. And
sent to the knockers like an old horse!

BARBARA. No matter: if you did your part God will do his.

SHIRLEY [suddenly stubborn] My religion's no concern of anybody
but myself.

BARBARA [guessing] I know. Secularist?

SHIRLEY [hotly] Did I offer to deny it?

BARBARA. Why should you? My own father's a Secularist, I think.
Our Father--yours and mine--fulfils himself in many ways; and I
daresay he knew what he was about when he made a Secularist of
you. So buck up, Peter! we can always find a job for a steady man
like you. [Shirley, disarmed, touches his hat. She turns from him
to Bill]. What's your name?

BILL [insolently] Wot's that to you?

BARBARA [calmly making a note] Afraid to give his name. Any
trade?

BILL. Who's afraid to give his name? [Doggedly, with a sense of
heroically defying the Hous