Major Barbara George Bernard Shaw (crime books to read txt) š
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me. Well, Iām goin to āav āer out. Not that I care a curse for her or you: see? But Iāll let āer know; and Iāll let you know. Iām goin to give āer a doin thatāll teach āer to cut away from me. Now in with you and tell āer to come out afore I come in and kick āer out. Tell āer Bill Walker wants āer. Sheāll know what that means; and if she keeps me waitinā itāll be worse. You stop to jaw back at me; and Iāll start on you: dāye hear? Thereās your way. In you go. He takes her by the arm and slings her towards the door of the shelter. She falls on her hand and knee. Rummy helps her up again.
Price
Rising, and venturing irresolutely towards Bill. Easy there, mate. She aināt doin you no āarm.
Bill
Who are you callin mate? Standing over him threateningly. Youāre goin to stand up for her, are you? Put up your āands.
Rummy
Running indignantly to him to scold him. Oh, you great bruteā āHe instantly swings his left hand back against her face. She screams and reels back to the trough, where she sits down, covering her bruised face with her hands and rocking and moaning with pain.
Jenny
Going to her. Oh God forgive you! How could you strike an old woman like that?
Bill
Seizing her by the hair so violently that she also screams, and tearing her away from the old woman. You Gawd forgive me again and Iāll Gawd forgive you one on the jaw thatāll stop you prayin for a week. Holding her and turning fiercely on Price. āAv you anything to say agen it? Eh?
Price
Intimidated. No, matey: she aināt anything to do with me.
Bill
Good job for you! Iād put two meals into you and fight you with one finger after, you starved cur. To Jenny. Now are you goinā to fetch out Mog Habbijam; or am I to knock your face off you and fetch her myself?
Jenny
Writhing in his grasp. Oh please someone go in and tell Major Barbaraā āShe screams again as he wrenches her head down; and Price and Rummy flee into the shelter.
Bill
You want to go in and tell your Major of me, do you?
Jenny
Oh please donāt drag my hair. Let me go.
Bill
Do you or donāt you? She stifles a scream. Yes or no.
Jenny
God give me strengthā ā
Bill
Striking her with his fist in the face. Go and show her that, and tell her if she wants one like it to come and interfere with me. Jenny, crying with pain, goes into the shed. He goes to the form and addresses the old man. Here: finish your mess; and get out oā my way.
Shirley
Springing up and facing him fiercely, with the mug in his hand. You take a liberty with me, and Iāll smash you over the face with the mug and cut your eye out. Aināt you satisfiedā āyoung whelps like youā āwith takin the bread out oā the mouths of your elders that have brought you up and slaved for you, but you must come shovinā and cheekinā and bullyinā in here, where the bread oā charity is sickeninā in our stummicks?
Bill
Contemptuously, but backing a little. Wot good are you, you old palsy mug? Wot good are you?
Shirley
As good as you and better. Iāll do a dayās work agen you or any fat young soaker of your age. Go and take my job at Horrockses, where I worked for ten year. They want young men there: they canāt afford to keep men over forty-five. Theyāre very sorryā āgive you a character and happy to help you to get anything suited to your yearsā āsure a steady man wonāt be long out of a job. Well, let āem try you. Theyāll find the differ. What do you know? Not as much as how to beeyave yourselfā ālayinā your dirty fist across the mouth of a respectable woman!
Bill
Donāt provoke me to lay it acrost yours: dāye hear?
Shirley
With blighting contempt. Yes: you like an old man to hit, donāt you, when youāve finished with the women. I aināt seen you hit a young one yet.
Bill
Stung. You lie, you old soupkitchener, you. There was a young man here. Did I offer to hit him or did I not?
Shirley
Was he starvinā or was he not? Was he a man or only a crosseyed thief an a loafer? Would you hit my son-in-lawās brother?
Bill
Whoās he?
Shirley
Todger Fairmile oā Balls Pond. Him that won 20 pounds off the Japanese wrastler at the music hall by standinā out 17 minutes 4 seconds agen him.
Bill
Sullenly. Iām no music hall wrastler. Can he box?
Shirley
Yes: anā you canāt.
Bill
Wot! I canāt, canāt I? Wotās that you say? Threatening him.
Shirley
Not budging an inch. Will you box Todger Fairmile if I put him on to you? Say the word.
Bill
Subsiding with a slouch. Iāll stand up to any man alive, if he was ten Todger Fairmiles. But I donāt set up to be a perfessional.
Shirley
Looking down on him with unfathomable disdain. You box! Slap an old woman with the back oā your hand! You hadnāt even the sense to hit her where a magistrate couldnāt see the mark of it, you silly young lump of conceit and ignorance. Hit a girl in the jaw and ony make her cry! If Todger Fairmileād done it, she wouldnāt a got up inside oā ten minutes, no more than you would if he got on to you. Yah! Iād set about you myself if I had a weekās feedinā in me instead oā two months starvation. He returns to the table to finish his meal.
Bill
Following him and stooping over him to drive the taunt in. You lie! you
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