“Who does?”
“Why, you do, sir. Smithy and I talked it over last night, and we both agreed that you’re never happy unless you’re along with the forecastle Jacks, or sneaking about with old Ching.”
“Get out!” I said indignantly.
“None of your impudence, sir, because that won’t do. It’s come to this: either you’ve got to give up low society, or high.”
“Which is which?” I said.
“What?”
“I said which is which? Do you mean you two fellows are high society?”
“Do you hear this beggar, Smithy?”
“Oh yes, I hear him. Isn’t it awful to find so much depravity in such a small body? But keep him to it, and make him speak. He has got to choose.”
“Yes, you’ve got to choose, Gnat. We can’t have a brother officer always associating with the low Chinee.”