"I appreciate your feeling.

But there ain't any danger," he added, buoyantly.

"Anyhow, you spoke too late, as the Irishman said to the chicken when he swallowed him in a fresh egg.

I've asked Lindau, and he's accepted with blayzure; that's what he says." March made no other comment than a shrug.
"You'll see," Fulkerson continued, "it 'll go off all right.

I'll engage to make it, and I won't hold anybody else responsible." In the course of his married life March had learned not to censure the irretrievable; but this was just what his wife had not learned; and she poured out so much astonishment at what Fulkerson had done, and so much disapproval, that March began to palliate the situation a little.
"After all, it isn't a question of life and death; and, if it were, I don't see how it's to be helped now." "Oh, it's not to be helped now.