Follow the Fleet Page #3

You've got me up

against the ropes here.

Maybe we better sit this one out.

Sure.

This is a lucky night for me, baby.

You're just my type of girl.

Oh, really?

I thought you were the kind of man

who never gives girls a tumble.

You've got some

very funny ideas about me.

Oh, I admit I've been around.

But I've never met one like you, baby.

No, I guess you haven't.

Hey, what's the idea?

It's a line of defense.

Well, watch my maneuvers.

You can't beat the Navy.

All right, sailor. I surrender.

Unconditionally?

Well, I'm willing to discuss terms.

Okay, baby. Let's get out of here.

Let's find someplace

where we can talk.

I'll go ransom my hat

and meet you at the back exit.

And don't walk out on me.

-Where's Connie?

-Dropped in a minute ago...

...and said she was leaving,

for you not to worry.

Poor kid. I'll bet she was scared

with all these sailors around.

Thanks.

All right, everybody.

And now, as you know...

...the Paradise Club holds its popular

Saturday night dance contest.

Mr. Weber will tap the shoulders

of the eliminated couples...

...and as usual, your applause

will decide the winners.

I thank you.

-Kind of neat, huh?

-Kind of.

Listen, my enlistment's up in the spring.

Then we'll pick up where we left off,

only this time you'll ask me to marry you.

The Navy must be a wonderful institution.

It produces such a modest,

shrinking type of man.

Yeah, doesn't it?

Go away.

How do you like that?

On my dime, he wants to cut in.

The village cutups.

Wait a minute.

This is the dance contest.

-Is it?

-I'm not supposed to be in it.

-Why not?

-Because it's for guests.

Well, I'm a guest. Ten cents' worth.

No, I don't think I'd better.

Maybe you're right. You probably couldn't

keep up with me anymore anyway.

You think not? Well, I'm not so

sure you could keep up with me.

Gosh, you've kind of taken

the wind out of my sails.

There aren't any sails these days, baby.

Just steam, full steam ahead.

Come on, let me get you

something to eat.

-Don't tell me you can cook too.

-Oh, yes.

You don't know the kind

of person I really am.

Well, you've given me a faint idea.

Oh, boy.

Say, I haven't seen the inside

of an icebox since I left home.

Where is your home?

Texas.

I've been back once or twice

to see my mother.

-She never knows when I'm gonna turn up.

-Don't you ever write her?

I'm no good at writing.

Don't know what to say.

You could say you love her.

What's the use? She knows that.

Custard pie.

-Now, don't tell me you made this too.

-I made it.

Sweetheart, you've got everything.

I knew it from the first minute I saw you.

-Bilge, I've got to tell you the truth.

-About what?

Well, the first time you saw me,

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