“O, you let me alone, will you?” said Huish, opening a bottle of champagne. “You’ll ’ear my idea soon enough. Wyte till I pour some cham on my ’ot coppers.” He drank a glass off, and affected to listen. “’Ark!” said he, “’ear it fizz. Like ’am frying, I declyre. ’Ave a glass, do, and look sociable.”
“No!” said the captain, with emphasis; “no, I will not! there’s business.”
“You p’ys your money and you tykes your choice, my little man,” returned Huish. “Seems rather a shyme to me to spoil your breakfast for wot’s really ancient ’istory.”
He finished three parts of a bottle of champagne, and nibbled a corner of biscuit, with extreme deliberation; the captain sitting opposite and champing the bit like an impatient horse. Then Huish leaned his arms on the table and looked Davis in the face.
“Well, now, what’s your idea?” said Davis, with a sigh.
“Fair play!” said Huish. “What’s yours?”
“The trouble is that I’ve got none,” replied Davis; and wandered for some time in aimless discussion of the difficulties of their path, and useless explanations of his own fiasco.
“About done?” said Huish.
“I’ll dry up right here,” replied Davis.