London at 11.15 pm. Heavy summer rain. People running for shelter into the portico of St. Paul's church, among them a LADY in an evening dress. All are peering out gloomily at the rain, except one man, writing in a notebook.

The lady. Freddy, go and find a cab. Do you want me to catch pneumonia?

Freddy is a young man of twenty, in evening dress.

The lady. Don't just stand there, Freddy. Go and find a cab.

Freddy. All right? I'll get one. I'll get it.

The flower girl. Look where you're goin', dear. Look where you're goin'!

Freddy. I'm so sorry.

The flower girl. Тә-оо banches о voylets trod into the mad.

The mother. Freddy, Freddy, go and find the cab.

Freddy. Yes, mother.

The flower girl. Ow, eez уә-ооа, san, is e? Wai, eed ran awy athaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f them?

The mother. Go on about your business, my girl.

The flower girl. You go on without paying. Two bunches of violets trodden into the mud

The gentleman. Phew!

The mother. Oh, sir, is there any sign of its stopping?

The gentleman. I'm afraid not. It's worse than before.

The flower girl. Cheer up, Captain; and buy a flower off a poor girl.

The gentleman. I'm sorry. I haven't any change. Stop: here's three half-pence, if that's any use to you.

The flower girl. Thank you, sir.

The bystander. You be careful: give him a flower for it. There's a policeman here behind taking down every word you're saying.

The flower girl. I aint done nothing wrong by speaking to the gentleman. I've a right to sell flowers if I keep off the curb. I'm a respectable girl, so help me. I never spoke to him except to ask him to buy a flower off me.

The crowd. What's all the blooming noise? Who's doing all that shouting?

The note taker. There! There! There! Who's hurting you, you silly girl! Oh, shut up, shut up. Do I look like a policeman?

The flower girl. Then what did you take down my words for? How do I know whether you took me down right? You just show me what you've wrote about me. What's that? That aint proper writing. I can't read that.