But let it be mine to pass my days with a cheek o' pork like the present instance.

Ruby, my dear, the young man here wants to lave us." "Leave us ?" echoed Ruby, pricking her finger deep in the act of pinning the stranger's rose in her bosom.
"You hear, young man.

That's the tone o' speech signifyin' 'damn it all!' among women.

And so say I, wi' all these vittles cryin' out to be ate." "These brisk days," began the stranger quietly, "are not to be let slip.
I have no wife, no kin, no friends, no fortune--or only the pound or two sewn in my belt.

The rest has been lost to me these three days and lies with the _Sentinel_, five fathoms deep in your cove below.