"None so dusty—what?" Ginger fairly glowed with a sense of victory.
"Yep," said the Sailor feebly.
"About fixes it—what?"
"Yep," said the Sailor.
He gave back the letter to Ginger with nervous guilt, neither knowing why it was none so dusty nor what it was that it fixed.
"Yer silly perisher. Don't yer see what it means?"
The Sailor nodded feebly.
"Very well, then, why don't yer say so?"
There was the light of contempt in the truculent eyes of Ginger. The Sailor simply could not meet them.
"Blymy"—the scorn of Ginger was withering—"if you hadn't been nine times round the world afore the mast, I should say you was just a guy—I should straight. Don't you understand what Dinkie Dawson says?"