It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. "Poor Mrs. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. He heard the woman talking again. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. I think you are hard.
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