"That's quite a drink. I know few men who enjoy straight gin, Mister Jingle. It always comes as a surprise when I—"
"You gonna give us the fight, Mister Gassel?" interrupted Charlie.
"The fight? You mean with Iron-Man Pugg?"
"That's right, with Iron-Man Pugg."
"Well Mister Jingle. Since you put the matter so straightforwardly. Pugilists Incorporated only owns a small block of stock in Iron-Man Pugg, as you know. Mister Rupp and Mister White here represent the other interests involved. As you must know, Pugilists Incorporated is a large-scale business, designed to function on a large-scale basis. Now, we, the stockholders in Iron-Man Pugg, have thought this thing out. We've come to the conclusion that it would rather—well, embarrass the Company to agree to such a match as you propose."
"So you won't fight?"
"No, no, Mister Jingle, don't jump to hasty conclusions. I'm trying to explain something to you. It's not simply a matter of matching your—ah—boy against ours. But we are concerned with the overall effect of such a bout. Frankly, our reputation as a manufacturing concern is more important to us than the outcome of any single bout—"
"Whadda you say you get to the point?"
"Certainly. Tanker Bell, as we understand it, has a fighting history of forty-seven years. Now, I'm afraid we'd be made a laughing-stock if Tanker Bell were set into motion against one of our products."
"Especially if he won, is that it?"