"Ah! now, ye'r not in earnest?"
"Yes, Mary Anne, by all that's"—
"Well, there now, don't swear, and take care—sure Mark Anthony is looking."
"Mark Anthony be—"
"Oh! how passionate you are; I'm sure I never could live easy with you. There, now, give me some sponge cake, and don't be squeezing me, or they'll see you."
"Yes, to my heart, dearest girl."
"Och, it's cheese you're giving me," said she, with a grimace that nearly cured my passion.
"A cottage, a hut, with you—with you," said I, in a cadence that I defy Macready to rival—"what is worldly splendour, or the empty glitter of rank."
I here glanced at my epaulettes, upon which I saw her eyes rivetted.
"Isn't the ginger beer beautiful," said she, emptying a glass of champagne.