But surely we are not allowed..." "Allowed?" I counters. "We're allowed to do anything in this world until someone says we ain't allowed and that someone can back it up.
L.A. MeyerI close my eyes, hoping to slip into the same dream again, but then that never happens, does it?
L.A. MeyerI warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.
L.A. MeyerYou was talkin' out of yer head last night, too," chortles Davy. "No one's gonna fancy me. I'm gonna be ugly and no on'es gonna fancyme!" he mimics, mincing about the hammock. "You are such a rum cove, Jacky, for thinkin' such things when yer just about beat t' death! Fancy me? Fancy me? Jacky, no one's gonna fancy us, we're all gonna end up lookin' like Snag!" "Which is how a salty dog sailor's supposed to look," says Willy with a firm nod. "And you're halfway there, Jack-o!" crows Tink. Ah, the sweet comfort of friends.
L.A. Meyer