'A nice thing for you to be nursed at this hour o' night!--Now just one glass, Mr.Grail.

It's a bitter night; just a glass to walk on.' Gilbert pleased her by drinking what she offered.

Ackroyd had recommenced his uproarious mirthfulness.
'I wish you could persuade your brother to go to the lectures again, Mrs.Poole,' said Gilbert.

'He misses a great deal.' 'And he'll miss a good deal more,' she replied, 'if he doesn't soon come to his senses.

Nay, it's no good o' me talking! He used to be a sensible lad--that is, he could be if he liked.' Gilbert gave his hand for leave-taking.
'I still hope you'll go on Sunday night,' he said seriously.
Ackroyd shook his head again, then tossed the child into the air and began singing.