"Oh, blow it, Dick, you're too fastidious--too damned particular! Say what you like, there's good in all of 'em--even in old Mother Flannigan 'erself--and 'specially when she's got a drop inside 'er.

Fuddle old Moll a bit, and she'd give you the very shift off her back .-- Don't I thank the Lord, that's all, I'm not built like you! Why, the woman isn't born I can't get on with.

All's fish that comes to my net .-- Oh, to be young, Dick, and to love the girls! To see their little waists, and their shoulders, and the dimples in their cheeks! See 'em put up their hands to their bonnets, and how their little feet peep out when the wind blows their petticoats against their legs!" and Purdy rose in his stirrups and stretched himself, in an excess of wellbeing.
"You young reprobate!" "Bah!--you! You've got water in your veins." "Nothing of the sort! Set me among decent women and there's no company I enjoy more," declared Mahony.
"Fish-blood, fish-blood!--Dick, it's my belief you were born old." Mahony was still young enough to be nettled by doubts cast on his vitality.

Purdy laughed in his sleeve.

Aloud he said: "Well, look here, old man, I'll lay you a wager.