This ale, I try to believe, will last my time.

If a company corrupt it, I forswear all fermented liquor, and go to the grave on mere element--'honest water which ne'er left man in the mire.' But I hope better things--I hops better things." "And what do you think of Martin ?" asked the journalist, as he and Lashmar walked to the nearest place where a vehicle could be obtained for the drive to Rivenoak.
"A fine old cynic!" answered Dyce.

"I hope often to drink ale with him." "Luckily, it doesn't compromise you.

Martin belongs to no party, and gives no vote.

I could tell you a good story about his reception of a canvasser--a lady, by Jove!--at the last election; but I'll keep it till we meet again, as you are in a hurry.