Where did this bit of broken bottle come from?
They don't give you whiskey like this to drink." "That they don't," muttered the coachman, not so much abashed as they had expected.

"And I wouldn't care for it if they did.

I found that bit of bottle in the ash-barrel outside, and fished it out to put varnish in.

I liked the shape." "Broken this way ?" "Yes; it's just as good." "Is it?
Well, never mind, run along.

We'll close the stable-door for you." "I'd rather do it myself and carry in the key." "Here then; we're going to the funeral, too.