Whereat the stewart, a pert-eyed, dapper little cockney--amateur of the
violin and noted impersonator of popular music-hall comedians--took him
up in tones of amiable argument.
"Your stomach's so turned on the subject of females you can't do 'em
justice. Gone sour, regularly sour, it is. And I don't hold with you
there, Partington, never shall and never do. I'm one as can always find a
cosy corner in me manly bosom for the lidies--blame me if I can't, the
pore 'elpless little lovey-doveys. After all's said and done Gawd made
'em just as much as 'e made you, Partington, that 'e did."
"And called you in, sonny, to lend 'im an 'and at the job, didn't 'e?
All I can say is you'd both have been better employed putting in your
time and talents somewhere else."
After which sally the two smoked in silence, while the ship's dog
alternately stretched himself on the hot boards, and started up with a
yelp to snap at the cloud of buzzing flies again.
The steward merely bided his time, however, and enquired presently with a
nice air of nonchalance:
"Never been married, Partington, 'ave you? I've often known that put a
fellow sadly off the sex.
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