"Bed and board you shall have while I'm alive, and a glass to look at yourself in; but my hand's for decent beasts.

Move one way or t' other: take your choice." Seeing Robert hesitate, he added, "I shall have a damned deal more respect for you if you toddle." He waved his hand away from the premises.
"I'm sorry you've taken so to swearing of late, sir," said Robert.
"Two flints strike fire, my lad.

When you keep distant, I'm quiet enough in my talk to satisfy your aunt Anne." "Look here, sir; I want to make use of you, so I'll go in." "Of course you do," returned Jonathan, not a whit displeased by his son's bluntness; "what else is a father good for?
I let you know the limit, and that's a brick wall; jump it, if you can.

Don't fancy it's your aunt Jane you're going in to meet." Robert had never been a favourite with his aunt Anne, who was Jonathan's housekeeper.
"No, poor old soul! and may God bless her in heaven!" he cried.
"For leaving you what you turned into a thundering lot of liquor to consume--eh ?" "For doing all in her power to make a man of me; and she was close on it--kind, good old darling, that she was! She got me with that money of hers to the best footing I've been on yet--bless her heart, or her memory, or whatever a poor devil on earth may bless an angel for! But here I am." The fever in Robert blazed out under a pressure of extinguishing tears.
"There, go along in," said Jonathan, who considered drunkenness to be the main source of water in a man's eyes.

"It's my belief you've been at it already this morning." Robert passed into the house in advance of his father, whom he quite understood and appreciated.