tores  from branco branco ginger ttle devil, under-sized, ac pounced on  sometake in tly, and was going for h a voice like a circular saw.

    ‘ count it! COURSE you couldn’t. too mucrouble, t’d be. ho, no!’

    Before I could stop myself I’d caug  so nice for o  middle-aged bloke ook urned aended to be interested in some stuff at t counter, curtain rings or someto urn a back at you, like a dragon-fly.

    ‘COURSE you couldn’t count it! Doesn’t matter to YOU if . Doesn’t matter at all. ’s to YOU? Couldn’t ask YOU to go to trouble of counting it properly. ters ‘ere ‘cept YOUR convenience. You don’t t others, do you?’

    t on for about five minutes in a voice you could  turning ao make ing back to  fart t eig,  of moony face, t  t any  tting into  ters ending not to iff-built little devil, t of cock-sparroype of man t sticks  out and puts tails—type t’d be a sergeant-major only t tall enougice en ticking ac into o scream at ter. And the girl all pink and wriggling.

    Finally  rutted off like an admiral on ter-deck, and I came up to ter for my razor-blades.  t of it  for my benefit s to pretend t not on tandoffisance attitude t a so keep up omers. o act te after I’d seen ill pink and rembling. I asked arted fumbling in tray. ttle devil of a floor-manager turned our  bot o begin again. t sees t s me out of t because I’d seen ed me like the devil. Queer!

    I cleared out and it? I  t’s t of t sometimes serves me at tore grocery . A great y lump of ty,  to be