“I don't think you would be so silly. For if you did, we should part.”
“Don't mention such an event, sir.”
“You have been drinking, Crawley!”
“Not a drop, sir, this two days.”
“You are a liar! The smell of it comes through your skin. I won't have it. Do you hear what I say? I won't have it. No man that drinks can do business—especially mine.”
“I'll never touch a drop again. They called me into the public-house—they wouldn't take a denial.”
“Hold your prate and listen to me. The next time you look at a public-house say to yourself, Peter Crawley, that is not a public-house to you—it is a hospital, a workhouse, for a dunghill—for if you go in there John Meadows, that is your friend, will be your enemy.”
“Heaven forbid, Mr. Meadows.”
“Drink this basinful of coffee.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It is very bitter.”