'A good woman, that,’ said Groat, as she strode away. ‘Fifth generation of Miss Maccalariats. Maiden name kept for professional purposes, o’course.’
‘They get married?’
From the mob around the makeshift counter came the ringing command: ‘Put that pen back this minute! Do you think
I’m made of pens?’
‘Yessir,’said Groat.
‘Do they bite their husbands’ heads off on their wedding night?’ said Moist.
‘I wouldn’t know that sort of thing, sir,’ said Groat blushing.
‘But she’s even got a bit of a moustache!’
‘Yessir. There’s something for everyone in this wonderful world, sir.' (GP)
‘They get married?’
From the mob around the makeshift counter came the ringing command: ‘Put that pen back this minute! Do you think
I’m made of pens?’
‘Yessir,’said Groat.
‘Do they bite their husbands’ heads off on their wedding night?’ said Moist.
‘I wouldn’t know that sort of thing, sir,’ said Groat blushing.
‘But she’s even got a bit of a moustache!’
‘Yessir. There’s something for everyone in this wonderful world, sir.' (GP)
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