All's open, and honest, and aboveboard.

Kill your rats and kill your rabbits, but leave foxes to your betters.

Foxes are gentlemen.

You don't understand?
Be hanged if they ain't! I like the old fox, and I don't like to see him murdered and exterminated, but die the death of a gentleman, at the hands of gentlemen--" "And ladies," sneered the farmer.
All the room was with Stephen, and would have backed him uproariously, had he not reached his sounding period without knowing it, and thus allowed his opponent to slip in that abominable addition.
"Ay, and ladies," cried the huntsman, keen at recovery.

"Why shouldn't they?
I hate a field without a woman in it; don't you?
and you?
and you?
And you, too, Mrs.Boulby?
There you are, and the room looks better for you--don't it, lads?
Hurrah!" The cheering was now aroused, and Stephen had his glass filled again in triumph, while the farmer meditated thickly over the ruin of his argument from that fatal effort at fortifying it by throwing a hint to the discredit of the sex, as many another man has meditated before.
"Eh! poor old Bob!" Stephen sighed and sipped.