“Snod! Gimme a chance!”
“Birds of a feather ... you sound as loony as the rest, Matt!”
Matthew Higgins flew off the handle. The darkness concealed his steely eyes, but his voice was clear and hard.
“Are you telling me, or am I telling you? Ever been in a slaughter house where they were doing everything from little pigs ... on up?”
“Sorry, Matt. Might have known it would get you! The trouble with you is you are up against the medical profession, and the medical profession is composed of men who wait until you are down to hit you, and you ain’t used to....”
“Ain’t they queer, Snod? I didn’t see but two he-men this morning, and I saw at least ten doctors, and about half of that ten, I’d be damned if I could tell you what they was.”
“Statistics show that one-third of the silk underwear sold in the United States is bought by doctors.” Snod was grave and authoritative.
“I believe you, kid!”
“They buy it for the nurses!” Snod continued monotonously.
“Aw ... dry up! ... From the kids we went to the Maternity Clinic, and speaking of he-she things! Well he wore pants and a vest, but he talked like a nervous wife of fifty and his hands were always twisting....”