Clever idea of yours, Brock, to think of it.

And, here! We'll stop at this shop and pick up a glass.

You can have all day for practice with it.

And, I say, Brock, don't you think you can cultivate a--er--little more of an English style of speech?
That twang of yours won't--" "Heavens, man, I'm to be a low comedian, too," gasped Brock, as he was fairly pushed onto the shop.

Three minutes later they were on the sidewalk, and Brock was in possession of an object he had scorned most of all things in the world,--a monocle.
Arm in arm, they sauntered into the Ritz.