"I'm sorry, but I cannot endure it."
"I beg pardon, my lord?"
"I can't have you call me 'your lordship,' after every second word—I really cannot."
"Why, sir—may I still call you 'sir'?"
"I would much rather you did."
"Ay, sir—thank you...."
In the middle of tying the bow to his master's wig Jim paused, and in the mirror Jack saw his face fall.
"What's amiss now? And what have you done with my patches?"
"In that little box, sir—yes—that one. I was just thinking—here's the haresfoot, sir—that I shall never be able to see ye hold up a coach now!"
My lord, striving to affix the patch in just the right spot at the corner of his mouth, tried to control his features, failed, and went off into a peal of laughter that reached O'Hara in the room across the landing, and caused him to grin delightedly. He had not heard that laugh for many a long day.