I'm hanged if I don't speak about it!...

And that reminds me....

Good Lord, it's ten o'clock! I must go." He started up, Hilda rose, smiling a little.
"That's better," said the old fellow; "must be a man, what?
It's all a bit of the war, you know." "Oh, Uncle Bob, you _are_ a dear.

You do cheer one up, somehow.

I wish men were more like you." "No, you don't, my dear, don't you think it.