He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. Adieu! my charmer. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. How came you, Sir," he continued, addressing Sheppard, "to venture upon that frame. " "No more of this," interrupted Thames, "you make the matter worse by these excuses.
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