I wouldn’t, Bill; don’t you.
Don’t you, Bill. You’ve got your family to consider.
Well, anyway, I won’t let any more of them passengers go jumping into trains any more, not when they’re moving, I won’t. When the train gets in, doors shut. That’s the rule, and they’ll have to abide by it.
[Enter John Beal.]
Bill [touching his hat]
Good morning, sir.
[John does not answer, but walks to the door between them.]
Carry your bag, sir?
Go to hell!
[Exit through door.]
Somebody’s been getting at ’im.
Well, I never did. Why, I knows the young feller.
Pleasant spoken, ain’t ’e, as a rule?
Never knew ’im like this.
You ain’t bin sayin’ nothing to ’im, ’ave yer?
Never in my life.
Well, I never.
‘Ad some trouble o’ some kind.
[Train is heard.]
Ah, ’ere she is. Well, as I was saying . . .
In a second-class railway carriage.
Time: Same morning as Scene 1, Act I.
Noise, and a scene drawn past the windows. The scene, showing a momentary glimpse of fair English hills, is almost entirely placards, “Give her bovril,” “Give her OXO,” alternately, for ever.
Occupants, John Beal, a girl, a man.
All sit in stoical silence like the two images near Luxor. The man has the window seat, and therefore the right of control over the window.
Would you mind having the window open?
The man in the corner [shrugging his shoulders in a shivery way]