"Do you come and sit down on my knee here for a few minutes or so, and that'd warm me better than all the 'tay' in the world." Aby showed by his face that he was immeasurably disgusted by the iniquitous coarseness of this overture.

Miss O'Dwyer, however, looking at the gentleman's age, and his state as regarded liquor, passed it over as of no moment whatsoever.

So that when, in the later part of the evening, Aby expressed to that young lady his deep disgust, she merely said, "Oh, bother; what matters an old man like that ?" And then, when they were at this pass, Mr.O'Dwyer came in.

He did not interfere much with his daughter in the bar room, but he would occasionally take a dandy of punch there, and ask how things were going on in doors.

He was a fat, thickset man, with a good-humoured face, a flattened nose, and a great aptitude for stable occupations.
He was part owner of the Kanturk car, as has been before said, and was the proprietor of sundry other cars, open cars and covered cars, plying for hire in the streets of Cork.
"I hope the mare took your honour well down to Kanturk and back again," said he, addressing his elder customer with a chuck of his head intended for a bow.
"I don't know what you call well," said Mr.Mollett.