"I THOUGHT I'd smelt it on you a good deal lately, but I wouldn't 'a' believed you'd take more'n was good for you.
Boh! To see you like a common hog!" Roscoe chuckled and threw out his right arm in a meaningless gesture.
"Hog!" he repeated, chuckling.
"Yes, a hog!" said Sheridan, angrily.

"In business hours! I don't object to anybody's takin' a drink if you wants to, out o' business hours; nor, if a man keeps his work right up to the scratch, I wouldn't be the one to baste him if he got good an' drunk once in two, three years, maybe.
It ain't MY way.

I let it alone, but I never believed in forcin' my way on a grown-up son in moral matters.

I guess I was wrong! You think them men out there are waitin' to talk business with a drunkard?
You think you can come to your office and do business drunk?
By George! I wonder how often this has been happening and me not on to it! I'll have a look over your books to-morrow, and I'll--" Roscoe stumbled to his feet, laughing wildly, and stood swaying, contriving to hold himself in position by clutching the back of the heavy chair in which he had been sitting.
"Hoo--hoorah!" he cried.

"'S my principles, too.