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Book, page 42 / 73 expectantly toward a quiet stranger. "A beeh," said the man. Pete drew a foam-topped glassful and set it dripping upon the bar. At this moment the light bamboo doors at the entrance swung open and crashed against the siding. Jimmie and a companion entered. They swaggered unsteadily but belligerently toward the bar and looked at Pete with bleared and blinking eyes. "Gin," said Jimmie. "Gin," said the companion. Pete slid a bottle and two glasses along the bar. He bended his head sideways as he assiduously polished away with a napkin at the gleaming wood. 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.
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