He paid Leah lip-fealty on his entry.
"What a pity it's Sunday!" was Leah's first remark when the kissing was done.
"No going to the play," said Sam ruefully, catching her meaning.
They always celebrated his return from a commercial round by going to the theatre--the-etter they pronounced it.

They went to the pit of the West End houses rather than patronize the local dress circles for the same money.

There were two strata of Ghetto girls, those who strolled in the Strand on Sabbath, and those who strolled in the Whitechapel Road.
Leah was of the upper stratum.

She was a tall lovely brunette, exuberant of voice and figure, with coarse red hands.

She doted on ice-cream in the summer, and hot chocolate in the winter, but her love of the theatre was a perennial passion.