BARNEY: Bit surprised to see you back at all. Thought you might have got the wink from Nance the other night. Drop into the pub some time. Plain enough for anyone, I woulda thought.

JOSEF: I am sorry. Now I do not understand.

BARNEY: Oh, c’mon.

His head appears above the piano.

I know you got some trouble with the lingo, but can’t be as bad as that. Any time that I’m not here, Nance is free to please herself—Yanks, Free French—take your pick. Once I’m on the spot though, blokes that want a word with her, they drop into the pub.

JOSEF stares, outraged, as BARNEY says with the brutal ease of a man in possession:

No objection to you stayin’ friendly—times down there I’ve given the nod to quite a few around the bar. Just so long as everybody knows the customer that’s got priority—right?

JOSEF is bereft of words. Satisfied with this reaction, BARNEY turns his attention to BUBBA as she returns with a hammer and a handful of nails.

BUBBA: These?

BARNEY: Turn it up. They’re roofin’ nails.

He seizes them from BUBBA and leaves for the kitchen.

What do they teach you at that convent?

BUBBA puts down the hammer and takes the chance to examine the telephone. She lifts the receiver with one hand and the length of dangling flex with the other.

BUBBA: This’ll be one of his jokes, I bet.

JOSEF: [exploding] I do not wish to hear about his jokes. The man is a momser—with a very dirty mouth—

BUBBA is startled.

I am sorry. That was stupid of me.

He grabs his hat and briefcase.

BUBBA: You’re not goin’? What about Mrs Leech?

JOSEF: [moving for the street door] Is no matter.

BUBBA: [tagging along] You want me to give her any message?

She opens the door for him and JOSEF emerges onto the front verandah.

JOSEF: [stiff with anger] I was asked if Mrs Leech could recommend me as a well-conducted man who knows how to behave himself. Is clear from her boarders she has no great knowledge of such people. I will say goodnight.

JOSEF heads for the street, leaving BUBBA staring after him in puzzlement as ROO comes down the stairs, wearing casual army dress.

ROO: Somethin’ up?

BUBBA: I’m not sure. He—

She slams the door, and runs to the foot of the stairs, JOSEF forgotten.

Is it true?

ROO: Is what true?

BUBBA: You and Barney—gettin’ your discharge?

ROO throws an affectionate arm around her and they move into the living room.

ROO: Well—let’s say with any luck, it could be true on Friday week.

BUBBA: [hugging him] I knew. I knew as soon as you came in.

BARNEY enters with a handful of staples.

BARNEY: Has he gone?

BUBBA: Yes.