“Who’s the gal?” ses old Sam.
Peter didn’t know, but when they came ’ome that night ’e asked. Ginger, who was sitting up in bed with a far-off look in ’is eyes, cuddling ’is knees, went on staring but didn’t answer.
“Who is it making a fool of you this time, Ginger?” ses old Sam.
“You mind your bisness and I’ll mind mine,” ses Ginger, suddenly waking up and looking very fierce.
“No offence, mate,” ses Sam, winking at Peter. “I on’y asked in case I might be able to do you a good turn.”
“Well, you can do that by not letting her know you’re a pal o’ mine,” ses Ginger, very nasty.
Old Sam didn’t understand at fust, and when Peter explained to ’im he wanted to hit ’im for trying to twist Ginger’s words about.
“She don’t like fat old men,” ses Ginger.
“Ho!” ses old Sam, who couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Ho! don’t she? Ho! Ho! indeed!”
He undressed ’imself and got into the bed he shared with Peter, and kept ’im awake for hours by telling ’im in a loud voice about all the gals he’d made love to in his life, and partikler about one gal that always fainted dead away whenever she saw either a red-’aired man or a monkey.