Even then, however, he was not offensive, but one of those people who hurt themselves by their own irritability more than they hurt other people.
"Haven't you done that YET ?" he would cry.

"Go on, be a month of Sundays." Again, and Paul could understand him least then, he was jocular and in high spirits.
"I'm going to bring my little Yorkshire terrier bitch tomorrow," he said jubilantly to Paul.
"What's a Yorkshire terrier ?" "DON'T know what a Yorkshire terrier is?
DON'T KNOW A YORKSHIRE--" Mr.
Pappleworth was aghast.
"Is it a little silky one--colours of iron and rusty silver ?" "THAT'S it, my lad.

She's a gem.

She's had five pounds' worth of pups already, and she's worth over seven pounds herself; and she doesn't weigh twenty ounces." The next day the bitch came.

She was a shivering, miserable morsel.