He had a look of watchfulness upon his features.
Jimmie and his companion kept their eyes upon the bartender and conversed loudly in tones of contempt.
"He's a dindy masher, ain't he, by Gawd ?" laughed Jimmie.
"Oh, hell, yes," said the companion, sneering widely.

"He's great, he is.

Git onto deh mug on deh blokie.

Dat's enough to make a feller turn hand-springs in 'is sleep." The quiet stranger moved himself and his glass a trifle further away and maintained an attitude of oblivion.
"Gee! ain't he hot stuff!" "Git onto his shape! Great Gawd!" "Hey," cried Jimmie, in tones of command.

Pete came along slowly, with a sullen dropping of the under lip.
"Well," he growled, "what's eatin' yehs ?" "Gin," said Jimmie.
"Gin," said the companion.
As Pete confronted them with the bottle and the glasses, they laughed in his face.