"Gosh, Ernie!" says I. "If you 're that way now what'll you be when you're married?"
"But I hadn't thought of getting married," says he. "Really!"
"Yes," says I, "and you silent, thoughtless boys are the very ones who jump into matrimony unexpected. Some evenin' you'll meet just the right babidoll and the next thing we know you'll be sendin' us at home cards. You act innocent enough in public, but I'll bet you're a bear when it comes to workin' up to a quick clinch behind the palms."
Ernie almost gasps with horror at the thought.
"Oh, I wouldn't put it past you," says I. "I expect, though, you'd like to have me class you among the great unkissed?"
"As a matter of fact," says Ernie solemn, "I have never—Well, not since I was a mere boy, at least. It—it's just happened so."
"And you past thirty!" says I. "What a long spell to be out of luck!"
So I suggests that we work through until about 7:45 and then hit the Regal roof for a $2 feed and a view of some of this fancy skatin' they're pullin' off there. But that ain't Ernie's plan at all. He has his mouth all set for an oyster stew and a plate of crullers down in the Arcade beanerie.
"Ah, forget your old automatic habits for once," says I. "This dinner is on the house, you know, so why not make it a reg'lar one? Come along."
And for a wonder I persuades him to do it. I expect this idea of chargin' it on the expense account hadn't occurred to him.