Moore. O muck! Who’s afraid of him? (To Ainslie.) Hang on, Slinkie.
Hunt (who is feigning drunkenness, and has overheard; aside). By jingo!
[Rivers. Will you sneeze, Mr. Deakin, sir?
Brodie. Thanks; I have all the vices, Captain. You must send me some of your rappee. It is passatively perfect.]
Rivers. Mr. Deakin, I do myself the hanar of a sip to you.
Brodie. Topsy-turvy with the can!
Moore (aside to Smith). That made him wink.
Brodie. Your high and mighty hand, my Captain! Shall we dice—dice—dice? (Dumb-show between them.)
Ainslie (aside to Moore). I’m sayin’—?
Moore. What’s up now?