Raw Hand (at sea for first time and observing steamer's red and green lights). "'ERE'S SOME LIGHTS ON THE STARBOARD SIDE, SIR."
Officer. "WELL, WHAT IS IT?"
R.H. "LOOKS TO ME LIKE A CHEMIST'S SHOP, SIR."
SMALL-TALK.
"Of course you must come," said Mary; "it's nonsense to say you can't dance."
Mary is married to my first cousin, Thomas. I looked at Thomas, but saw no hope of support. Thomas labours under the delusion that he can jazz.
"It isn't only the dancing," I protested; "it's the conversational strain. Besides, as one of the original founders of the League to Minimise Gossip amongst General Staff Officers—"
"Rot!" said Thomas; "you simply let your partners do the talking. You needn't even listen. Just say 'Quite' in your most official tone whenever you hear them saying nothing."