“Drink by drink,” he murmured softly. “Drink by drink.”
But, to my way of thinking, the honors for repartee at the Lambs’ bar should go to Hap Ward, of the old team of Ward and Vokes. Hap, one day, was acting as host to a group of thirsty Lambs. A newcomer joined the party, bringing with him as a guest a gentleman of a serious aspect. When introductions had been completed, Hap addressed the stranger.
“What will you have, sir?”
The visitor drew himself up.
“I have never indulged in the habit of imbibing strong drink in my life,” he said.
“My friend,” said Ward, “I can teach you in three easy lessons.”
§ 237 War Upon the Reptiles
Messrs. Cohen and Shapinsky retired from the white-goods business to devote themselves to lives of leisure. They took up golf.
Mr. Shapinsky sliced his drive and the ball, flying off at a tangent, descended in a bunker. Over the parapet of the bunker there came to the ears of the waiting Mr. Cohen muffled sounds as Mr. Shapinsky with his niblick dug into the sand. Finally he emerged.
“Vell,” he said, “not so bad, huh? It only took me three strokes to get out of that pit.”