"Yep," said the Sailor, to whom all this was as intelligible as a play of Sophocles.
"You'll also want a nice neat Gladstone."
"Yep," said the Sailor abjectly.
"Brown paper parcel and your boots tied on by string at the end o' it won't do in this scene, young feller."
"No," said the Sailor.
"Got to dress the shop winder a bit in this act." A strange inner light was beginning to gleam in the eyes of Ginger. "Nice new Gladstone, pair o' nice wide knickers cut saucy round the knee, and a set o' new laces in your boots. And I'm thinking one o' those all-wool white sweaters you can get at Tallow's might turn out a good investment."
The Sailor nodded feebly.
"Never spile the ship for a ha'porth o' tar. Allus dress the part. Never stint a coat o' paint for Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks."
The Sailor nodded.
"You've got to learn to knock the public silly," concluded Ginger, with a ferocity almost frightening, "if you are ever goin' to cut any ice on this bleedin' planet."