He'd lend it to me, and I'd smuggle it here." "Smuggle, of course," sneered Archy.
"In its green baize bag.

I could teach you how to play one toon." Archy remained silent, as he sat on a stone, listening contemptuously to the lad's words.
"I thought I could often come here, and sit and talk to you, and bring a light, and I brought these." He opened the door of the horn lanthorn, and produced from his pocket a very dirty old pack of cards, at which Archy stared with profound disgust.
"You and me could play a game sometimes, and then you wouldn't feel half so dull.

I say, have a puff now!" There was no reply.
"Shall I bring you some apples ?" Archy threw himself down, and lay on his side, with his head resting upon his hand, gazing into the darkness.
"We've got lots o' fox-whelps as we make cider of, and some red-cheeks which are ever so much better.

I'll bring you some." "Don't," replied Archy coldly.

"Bring me my liberty.