"Swishy, supple, tough."
"Ye-yes!" (How could the brute be such a fool as to be jealous now—now when it was all cooling off and coming to an end?)
"Grand stick to thrash a naughty boy with, what?"
"Ye-yes!—Dearman, I swear before God that there is nothing between me and——"
"Shut up, you infernal God-forsaken cub, or I shall have to whip you.
I——"
"Dearman, if you are jealous of me——"
"Better be quiet and listen, or I shall get cross, and you'll get hurt…. You have given us the pleasure of a great deal of your company this year, and I have come to ask you——"
"Dearman, I have not been so much lately, and I—"
"That's what I complain of, my young friend."
"What?"