The Rector (seized with a slight coughing): Possibly his ribs.
Caroline: Good gracious! (Whether this ejaculation was caused by surprise or by the oyster on which she had put more horse-radish than was suited to her palate, will always remain a mystery.)
Mr. Sullivan: We were out for gore th' fift' round. He was gettin' strong on his hooks.
Mrs. Cathewe (interrupting him with great timidity): What do you mean by "hooks"?
Mr. Sullivan: It's a blow like this. (Illustrates and knocks over the centerpiece. Water and flowers spread over the table.) I say, now, look at that. Ain't I a Mike now, t' knock over th' flower-pot like that?
Cathewe: Never mind that, Mr. Sullivan. Go on with the fight.
Mr. Sullivan: Where was I? Oh, yes; he put it all over me that round.... They had counted eight when th' bell rang an' saved me.
Caroline: Hit him on the phonograph!
The Rector (reddening): It is possible that he refers to Mr. McGonegal's mouth.
Caroline: Well, I never! And I've got a slangy brother, too, at Harvard.