Dash my wig, there's life in the old dogs yet, or we'd never ha' bin able to ride forty mile through this God-forgotten country.

An' damme if that isn't Coke, red as a lobster.

Jimmie, me boy, put it there! Man, but you're a dashed long way from port!" Happily, Iris was too stunned to betray herself.

She extended a hand to the sun-browned, white-haired old man standing by her uncle's side.
"I am very glad to see you, Mr.Bulmer," she said simply.

And, in that hour of searing agony, she meant it, for it is easier to look back on suffering than to await it, and she had been living in dread of this meeting for many a weary day..