“But surely, where the object is merely to testify to a plain matter-of-fact—”
“There ain't no such things on the 'arth as plain matters of fact, sir,” broke in Quackinboss, eagerly. “I've come to the middle period of life, and I never met one of 'em!”
O'Shea made a slight, very slight movement of impatience at these words; but the other remarked it, and said,—
“We 'll come to that presently, sir. Let us just post up this account of Mr. Layton's, first of all.”
“I don't think there is anything further to detain me here,” said O'Shea, rising with an air of stiff politeness.
“Won't you take something, sir,—won't you liquor?” asked Quackinboss, calmly.
“Excuse me; I never do of a morning.”
“I 'm sorry for it. I was a-thinkin', maybe you 'd warm up a bit with a glass of something strong. I was hopin' it's the cold of the day chilled you!”
“Do you mean this for insult, sir?” said O'Shea. “I ask you, because, really, your use of the English language is of a kind to warrant the question.”
“That 's where I wanted to see you, sir. You 're coming up to a good boilin'-point now, stranger,” said Quackinboss, with a pleased look.