— Ah, but you don't want to abandon him the way you were abandoned.
— Was I?
— Like I said, an open book.
— How would you know that?
— I spent many years in Neverland, home of the lost boys. They all share the same look in their eyes... the look you get when you've been left alone.
— Yeah, well, my world ain't Neverland.
— But an orphan's an orphan.

— Whose report?
— The testimony of children.
— Who have they spoken to?
— You'd have them only speak to God.
— God be their witness.
— There is God, and there are the Peaky Blinders. This is Sparkhill, we're in Small Heath. We are much, much closer at hand than God.
— And we have heard terrible things.
— We have, in this place, children of the worst sort. They lie as easily as breathe.
— You had a child half black. You made her wash with a different soap.
— Mr Shelby, your own sins are legend.
— Our sins... Our sins against the beating of children with bricks and hoses. Our sins. Our sins... against the black child who hanged herself for fear of your temper.
— I do not see how...
— You do not see! Now put them on. Put them on your face, or it'll be your eyes that are broken. Please don't imagine that I won't use this minute to do it, or that I am afraid of your prayers or your crosses.
— You see the world broken. Like those beaten children will.