[Staring at the
sidewalk.] Clean, ain't it? Yuh could eat a fried egg offen it.
The white wings got some job sweepin' dis up. [Looking up and down
the avenue--surlily.] Where's all de white-collar stiffs yuh said
was here--and de skoits--her kind?
LONG--In church, blarst 'em! Arskin' Jesus to give 'em more money.
YANK--Choich, huh? I useter go to choich onct--sure--when I was a
kid. Me old man and woman, dey made me. Dey never went demselves,
dough. Always got too big a head on Sunday mornin', dat was dem.
[With a grin.] Dey was scrappers for fair, bot' of dem. On Satiday
nights when dey bot' got a skinful dey could put up a bout oughter
been staged at de Garden. When dey got trough dere wasn't a chair
or table wit a leg under it. Or else dey bot' jumped on me for
somep'n. Dat was where I loined to take punishment. [With a grin
and a swagger.] I'm a chip offen de old block, get me?
LONG--Did yer old man follow the sea?
YANK--Naw. Worked along shore. I runned away when me old lady
croaked wit de tremens. I helped at truckin' and in de market. Den
I shipped in de stokehole. Sure. Dat belongs. De rest was nothin'.
[Looking around him.] I ain't never seen dis before. De Brooklyn
waterfront, dat was where I was dragged up. [Taking a deep
breath.] Dis ain't so bad at dat, huh?
LONG--Not bad? Well, we pays for it wiv our bloody sweat, if yer
wants to know!
YANK--[With sudden angry disgust.
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