"Now look here," Forrester said in a reasonable tone of voice. "I—"
"You spilling that stuff on me? What the blazes are you doing that for? I got a good mind to—"
Another man stepped into the altercation. This was a square-built, bullet-headed man with an air that was both truculent and eager. "What's the matter, Herb?" he asked the tall man. "This guy giving you trouble or something?" He favored Forrester with a fierce scowl. Forrester smiled pleasantly back, a little unsure as to how to proceed.
"This guy?" Herb said. "Trouble? Sam, he's an infidel!"
Forrester said: "I—"
"He drinks vodka," Herb said. "And I guess he drinks gin too."
"Great Bacchus," Sam said in a tone of wonder. "You run into them everywhere these days. Can't get away from the sons of—"
"Now—" Forrester started.
"And not only that," Herb said, "but he spills the stuff on me. Just because I ask him to have a regular drink like a man."
"Spills it on you?" Sam said.