ANNA—[With weary scorn.] Oh, for heaven's sake, are you off on that again? Where's the harm in his taking me around? D'you want me to sit all day and night in this cabin with you—and knit? Ain't I got a right to have as good a time as I can?
CHRIS—It ain't right kind of fun—not with that fallar, no.
ANNA—I been back on board every night by eleven, ain't I? [Then struck by some thought—looks at him with keen suspicion—with rising anger.] Say, look here, what d'you mean by what you yust said?
CHRIS—[Hastily.] Nutting but what Ay say, Anna.
ANNA—You said "ain't right" and you said it funny. Say, listen here, you ain't trying to insinuate that there's something wrong between us, are you?
CHRIS—[Horrified.] No, Anna! No, Ay svear to God, Ay never tank dat!
ANNA—[Mollified by his very evident sincerity—sitting down again.] Well, don't you never think it neither if you want me ever to speak to you again. [Angrily again.] If I ever dreamt you thought that, I'd get the hell out of this barge so quick you couldn't see me for dust.
CHRIS—[Soothingly.] Ay wouldn't never dream—[Then, after a second's pause, reprovingly.] You vas gatting learn to svear. Dat ain't nice for young gel, you tank?
ANNA—[With a faint trace of a smile.] Excuse me. You ain't used to such language, I know. [Mockingly.] That's what your taking me to sea has done for me.
CHRIS—[Indignantly.] No, it ain't me. It's dat damn sailor fallar learn you bad tangs.