"I can't stand very much talk about it, father," he said, pleadingly.
"No!" Sheridan cried.

"Neither can I! What do you think it means to ME ?" He dropped into the chair at his big desk, groaning.

"I can't stand to talk about it any more'n you can to listen, but I'm goin' to find out what's the matter with you, and I'm goin' to straighten you out!" Roscoe shook his head helplessly.
"You can't straighten me out." "See here!" said Sheridan.

"Can you go back to your office and stay sober to-day, while I get my work done, or will I have to hire a couple o' huskies to follow you around and knock the whiskey out o' your hand if they see you tryin' to take it ?" "You needn't worry about that," said Roscoe, looking up with a faint resentment.

"I'm not drinking because I've got a thirst." "Well, what have you got ?" "Nothing.