"Recollect your honour," cried I to the young woman, as I struggled.
"My honour!--Lord bless you, Peter, the less we say about that the better." "But you promised that I should go away quietly," said I, appealing to them.
"Well, and so you shall; but recollect, Peter, that you are an officer and a gentleman--you surely would not be so shabby as to go away without treating us.

What money have you got in your pocket ?" and, without giving me time to answer, she felt in my pocket, and pulled out my purse, which she opened.

"Why, Peter, you are as rich as a Jew," said she, as they counted thirty shillings on the table.

"Now, what shall we have ?" "Anything you please," said I, "provided that you will let me go." "Well, then, it shall be a gallon of gin.

Sall, call Mrs Flanagan.