Skippy, thinking on Dolly Travers, blushed.
"Got to shave every other day now," he said hastily, to cover his confusion.
"Have a coffin nail?" said Snorky, feeling that a bold stroke was necessary to restore the balance.
"Dyin' for one," said Skippy, who disliked the practice cordially. He selected a cigarette, tapped it on his hand and rolled the rim on the tip of his tongue. "Not bad."
"Nice bouquet, eh?" said Snorky, who had listened in.
"What? You betcha! What's the monogram?"
"Uncle Ben. I swiped them," said Snorky, who was returning from a family visit. "Suppose we give the old tub the once over and see if there's anything worth looking at on board."
Skippy allowed the cigarette to hang pendant from his lower lip, tilted his Panama with the purple and white band, sank his hands in his pockets and imitated carefully the dead game sporting slouch of his companion as they proceeded on their critical inspection of the feminine offering on the decks.
"Rum bunch," said Snorky, who was putting it on for Skippy. "Little girl over there got nice eyes."
"Piano legs."