"I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. It might be upset. He hated himself a little for it. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. In remote times and countries its evil tendencies had expressed themselves in the form of tyrannies, massacres, wars, and what not; but just at present in England they shaped as commercialism and competition, silk hats, suburban morals, the sweating system, and the subjection of women. This—all this swamps them. His eyes were set too close together.
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