“What was what called?”
“That whisky.”
“O'Rafferty Special.”
“And wherj get it?”
“Bilby's, in Oxford Street.”
“I'll make a note of it,” said Uncle Donald.
CHAPTER XVI. AT THE FLOWER GARDEN
1
“And after all I've done for her,” said Mr. Reginald Cracknell, his voice tremulous with self-pity and his eyes moist with the combined effects of anguish and over-indulgence in his celebrated private stock, “after all I've done for her she throws me down.”