“Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer,” said Mrs. Raddle, elevating her voice for the information of the neighbours⁠—“do you suppose that I’m a-going day after day to let a fellar occupy my lodgings as never thinks of paying his rent, nor even the very money laid out for the fresh butter and lump sugar that’s bought for his breakfast, and the very milk that’s took in, at the street door? Do you suppose a hardworking and industrious woman as has lived in this street for twenty year (ten year over the way, and nine year and three-quarters in this very house) has nothing else to do but to work herself to death after a parcel of lazy idle fellars, that are always smoking and drinking, and lounging, when they ought to be glad to turn their hands to anything that would help ’em to pay their bills? Do you⁠—”

“My good soul,” interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen soothingly.