“What then?” I whispered back.
“Kid.”
“Well, kid’s nice.”
“Get out! I meant baby.”
“Ugh! Don’t.”
“It’s too late to say don’t,” groaned Smith. “We’ve done it.”
“Hold up, old chap,” I whispered. “Everybody’s looking at you.”
“Let ’em,” he groaned. “Oh, I do feel so ill!”
“Nonsense! Look at Tanner.”
He turned his wild eyes upon Barkins, whose aspect was ludicrous enough to make him forget his own sensations, and he smiled a peculiarly saddened, pensive smile; for our messmate was leaning towards Ching.