"An' if you do," replied Gorman, dropping back into the brogue as he always did when he was in good-humour, whether fighting or chatting with a friend—"an' if you do, wud you jist kape me in moind as your furst assistant?"
"That I would," replied Sinclair. "I do not know how I should get along without you."
"Begorra, an' it's glad I am to hear you say so; for it's more p'ace of moind I have here than iver I've had since the furst toime me mother-in-law came to bliss me home wid her prisince—since she furst beamed upon us like the sun thr'u' a gatherin' storm."
"The only thing which catches me here is the grub. I do not like this Chinese chow."
"Faith thin, it seems to like you."
"How's that?"
"You're gettin' fat on it."
"Do you really think so?"
"Bedad and I don't think so. I'm sure of it."
Sinclair solicited tested the tightness of his belt; lazily raised himself and examined it to find out at what hole it was buckled.