“No more ’e ain’t,” said the cook, “an’ that’s what makes ’im more ’eroish still in my own opinion.”
“Did he take his clothes off?” inquired the mate.
“Not a bit of it,” said the delighted cook; “not a pair of trowsis, nor even ’is ’at, which was sunk.”
“You’re a liar, cook,” said the hero, looking up for a moment.
“You didn’t take your trowsis off, George?” said the cook anxiously.
“I chucked my ’at on the pavement,” growled George, without looking up.
“Well, anyway, you went over the Embankment after that pore girl like a Briton, didn’t you?” said the other.
There was no reply.
“Didn’t you?” said the cook appealingly.
“Did you expect me to go over like a Dutchman, or wot?” demanded George fiercely.