He was more'n one year older than he had been a year ago.
He kept a quart bottle in his room now.

The night after we had took Sam to see Doctor Jackson we was setting in his room, and he was hitting it purty hard.
"Danny," he says to me, after a while, like he was talking out loud to himself too, "what did you think of Doctor Jackson ?" "I don't like him much," I says.
"Nor I," he says, frowning, and takes a drink.

Then he says, after quite a few minutes of frowning and thinking, under his breath like: "He's a blame sight more decent than I am, for all of that." "Why ?" I asts him.
"Because Doctor Jackson," he says, "hasn't the least idea that he ISN'T decent, and getting his money in a decent way.

While at one time I was--" He breaks off and don't say what he was.

I asts him.