But his tone belied his words.

He puffed twice at his cigar, then introduced the men--Elbert Eshwell and Gregory Tempest--two of the kind clearly if inelegantly placed by the phrase, "greasy hamfats." Mr.Eshwell's black-dyed hair was smoothly brushed down from a central part, Mr.Tempest's iron-gray hair was greasily wild--a disarray of romantic ringlets.

Eshwell was inclined to fat; Tempest was gaunt and had the hollow, burning eye that bespeaks the sentimental ass.
"Now, Miss Sackville," said Burlingham, "we'll go on the forward deck and canvass the situation.

What for dinner, Vi ?" "Same old rot," retorted Miss Anstruther, wiping the sweat from her face and shoulders with a towel that served also as a dishcloth.

"Pork and beans--potatoes--peach pie." "Cheer up," said Burlingham.