]
LONG--[Frightenedly.] Keep yer bloomin' mouth shut, I tells yer.
YANK--[Viciously.] G'wan! Tell it to Sweeney! [He swaggers away
and deliberately lurches into a top-hatted gentleman, then glares
at him pugnaciously.] Say, who d'yuh tink yuh're bumpin'? Tink yuh
own de oith?
GENTLEMAN--[Coldly and affectedly.] I beg your pardon. [He has not
looked at YANK and passes on without a glance, leaving him
bewildered.]
LONG--[Rushing up and grabbing YANK's arm.] 'Ere! Come away! This
wasn't what I meant. Yer'll 'ave the bloody coppers down on us.
YANK--[Savagely--giving him a push that sends him sprawling.]
G'wan!
LONG--[Picks himself up--hysterically.] I'll pop orf then. This
ain't what I meant. And whatever 'appens, yer can't blame me. [He
slinks off left.]
YANK--T' hell wit youse! [He approaches a lady--with a vicious
grin and a smirking wink.] Hello, Kiddo. How's every little ting?
Got anyting on for to-night? I know an old boiler down to de docks
we kin crawl into. [The lady stalks by without a look, without a
change of pace. YANK turns to others--insultingly.] Holy smokes,
what a mug! Go hide yuhself before de horses shy at yuh. Gee, pipe
de heinie on dat one! Say, youse, yuh look like de stoin of a
ferryboat. Paint and powder! All dolled up to kill! Yuh look like
stiffs laid out for de boneyard! Aw, g'wan, de lot of youse! Yuh
give me de eye-ache.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63