“In my pocket, sir? Highly honored—shall be executed to the letter. What, wine!”
“And this is a check-book.”
“No! is it though?”
“You will draw on me for one hundred pounds per month.”
“No! shall I, though? Sir, you are a king!”
“Of which you will account for fifty pounds only.”
“Liberal, sir; as I said before, liberal as running water.”
“You are going a journey.”
“Am I? well! Don't you turn pale for that—I'll come back to you—nothing but death shall part us. Have a drop of this, sir; it will put blood into your cheek, and fire into your heart. That is right. Where am I going, sir?”
“What, don't you know?”