W. Pett Ridge

“ Mrs. Mills was waiting on the Friday evening, some doors east of her own shop; Gertie's new friend did not wait for instructions from his companion, but left her instantly.
"Who's looking after the counter, aunt?"
"Mr. Bulpert," replied the other, panting. "I've give him a cigar to stick in his face. He wants to see you. And I want to see you, too. Who is that you were talking to?"
"The elderly man I told you about. The one who always waits now to see me part of the distance home. Quite a character in his way."
"Quite a bad character," snapped Mrs. Mills. ”

“ He began to shout; it was clear that on the way from King's Road he had been taking refreshment to encourage determination. When he raised his fist, Gertie stepped forward.
"Miss Higham," said Madame calmly, "I wish you would just run downstairs and fetch a policeman."
Madame's husband instantly showed a diminution of aggressiveness. All he wanted was fair play and reasonable treatment. If there did not happen to be a five-pound note handy, gold would do; failing gold, he must, of course, be content with silver. ”

“ I told you not long ago I shouldn't go back to Great Titchfield Street once I was married."
"That's what I wanted to speak to you about. You're not serious, I s'pose, in saying this. You're only doing it to test my affection."
"I mean every word."
"Very well!" announced Bulpert defiantly. "Understand, then, that the engagement's off. Entirely and absolutely off. And if you're so ill-advised as to bring an action for breach, you jolly well can. Won't be a bad advert, for a public man like F. W. B. It'll get him talked about!" ”