She gave him her flashing smile. “You ain’t so bad either.” She’d got an accent like a heap of tins being tossed downstairs.
He said, “Come on over and get tight.”
Sam was already there with his blonde. Duffy fancied she smelt, and he sat away from her. Sam liked her a lot. He was showing signs of considerable interest.
Duffy said, “You girls like rum?”
They both began to protest. They wanted champagne.
Sam shook his head. “Listen,” he said. “We’re God’s gift to womanhood; if rum won’t keep you, you can both take a walk.”
Duffy said it was okay with him too.
So they had rum.
The place was crowding up. People kept squeezing between tables. One big chestnut, with large curves, tried to pass Sam, but she couldn’t quite make it. Sam looked up, gaped and said, “Hi, Bill! It’s the covered wagon.”
Duffy started to sweat. He guessed Sam was getting drunk.