Don't breed that sort nowadays.

As hearty as you like, and swallered his three pints of home-brewed every morning with his breakfast he did, till he was took off quite sudden in his four-score-and-ten twelve months ago come Michaelmas." Upon the terrace, by the pyramid of ball and the two little cannons, Sir Charles Verity stood, holding a packet of newly written letters in his hand and smoking, while he watched the approaching boat.

Damaris rose from the pile of red-brown fishing-nets and waved to him.

Jennifer, too, glanced up, steadying both oars with one hand while he raised the other to the brim of his thimble-crowned hat.

A couple of minutes more and he would part company with his passenger, and so judged it safe to indulge himself with a final fish-frying.
"Mortal fine figure of a man, Sir Charles even yet," he said to Tom admiringly.