“And you’ve broke your word, Sam.”
“I aint, ’pon my soul, I aint, Sally,” cried Sam, earnestly. “I’ve had my pint for dinner, and never touched a drop more till I had my pint at home.”
“Then where’s that money?”
“Spent it,” said Sam, laconically.
“Yes, at the nasty public-houses, Sam. An’ it’s too bad, and when I’d trusted you!”
“Wrong!” said Sam.
“Then where is it?”
“Fooled it away.”
“Yes, of course. But I didn’t expect it, Sam; I didn’t, indeed.”
“All your fault,” said Sam.