He spurred himself into being agreeable and insisted upon her having a charlotte-russe and a glass of beer.
"They's gone," he remarked, "they's gone." He looked at her through the smoke wreaths.

"Shay, lil' girl, we mightish well make bes' of it.
You ain't such bad-lookin' girl, y'know.

Not half bad.

Can't come up to Nell, though.

No, can't do it! Well, I should shay not! Nell fine-lookin' girl! F--i--n--ine.