"I am," ses Ginger. "If you think I'm going to be smashed up by a prize-fighter just to show my pluck you're mistook."
"You must go, Ginger," ses old Sam, very severe. "It's too late to back out of it now. Think of the gal. Think of 'er feelings."
"For the sake of your good name," ses Peter.
"I should never speak to you agin, Ginger," ses old Sam, pursing up 'is lips.
"Nor me neither," ses Peter Russet.
"To think of our Ginger being called a coward," ses old Sam, with a shudder, "and afore a gal, too."
"The loveliest gal in Wapping," ses Peter.
"Look 'ere," ses Ginger, "you can shut up, both of you. I'm not going, and that's the long and short of it. I don't mind an ordinary man, but I draw the line at prize-fighters."
Old Sam sat down on the edge of 'is bed and looked the picture of despair. "You must go, Ginger," he ses, "for my sake."
"Your sake?" ses Ginger, staring.