We should have a close shave if anything gave way above us.

Our own culvert's working all right, but it's taxed now to its utmost." Jack unhooked his water-proof from a nail behind the door--he had began putting on his rubber boots again before MacFarlane finished speaking.
"He will have to pay the bills, sir, if anything gives way--" Jack replied in a determined voice.

"Garry told me only last week that McGowan had to take care of his own water; that was part of his contract.

It comes under Garry's supervision, you know." "Yes, I know, and that may all be so, Breen," he replied with a flickering smile, "but it won't do us any good,--or the road either.
They want to run cars next month." The door again swung wide, and a man drenched to the skin, the water glistening on his bushy gray beard stepped in.
"I heard you were here, sir, and had to see you.

There's only four feet lee-way in our culvert, sir, and the scour's eating into the underpinning; I am just up from there.