"Not much of a conqueror!" "Why not?
Oh fudge! The game?
What matters the game?
It's the play we care about." "Well spoken, lassie," said the doctor.

"That's the true sport." "Aren't they awful ?" cried Dunn.

"Look at that young Canadian idiot up there." "Well, if you ask me, I think he's a perfect dear," said Miss Brodie, deliberately.

"I'm sure I know him; anyway I'm going to encourage him with my approval." And she waved her hand at Martin.
The master of ceremonies responded by taking off his hat and making a sweeping bow, still keeping up the beat.

The crowd, following his eyes, turned their attention to the young lady, much to Dunn's delight.
"Oh," she gasped, "they'll be chanting me next! Good-bye! I'm off!" And she darted back to the company of her friends marching on the pavement.
At this point Martin held up both arms and called for silence.
"Second verse," he shouted, "second verse! Get the words now!" "Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done, Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done." But the crowd rejected the Colonial version, and rendered in their own good Doric: "Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done, Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done." And so they sang and swayed, following the van till they neared Queen Street, down which lay the doctor's course.
"For heaven's sake, can't they be choked off ?" groaned Dunn.
The doctor signalled Jock to him.
"Jock," he said, "we'll just slip through at Queen Street." "We'd like awfully to do Princes Street, Sir," pleaded Jock.
"Princes Street, you born ass!" cried Dunn wrathfully.
"Oh, yes, let them!" cried young Rob, whose delight in the glory of his hero had been beyond all measure.