"Go 'way t' the divil out o' that!"
"Come on if you 're fit! Come on if you 're man enough! I 'll give you a beating you 've been spoiling for for the last thirty years."
"Go 'way t' the divil out o' that!"
"I will not go 'way out o' that. It's fight I want. I 'm boiling mad for one clout at your ugly gob."
"Will you whisht!" The coachman had seen Lady Margery.
"I will not whisht. Put up your hands! I 'll not stop till I 'm dug out of ye!"
"Kelleher, Brady, what's this?"
The groom dropped his fighting attitude and pulled off his cap.
"'T is just a foolish wee argument we were having, m'lady. I was telling this bloody old cod—begging your pardon, m'lady, for giving him his right name—that Lynchehaun the murderer was by rights a cousin to my mother's people, and he said that it was n't in either side of my family to produce a fine murdering man like the same Lynchehaun. So I up and gives him a tip about himself and his drunken old mother...."
"Kelleher!"