‘Booby! brute! Bag, that creature of light and love!’
‘Where?’
‘There!
‘What, my mother?’
‘Your mother! cub! cart-horse! answer me, or I will run you through.’
‘Who do you mean?’
‘There, there, dancing with that raw-boned youth with red hair.’
‘What, Lord St. Jerome! Lor! he is a Catholic. I never speak to them. My governor would be so savage.’
‘But the girl?’
‘Oh! the girl! Lor! she is a Catholic, too.’