Mr.
Bradshaw stood in the attitude familiar to him when on his own hearthrug, his back turned to that part of the wall where in England would have been a fireplace, and one hand thrust into the pocket of his evening coat.
"I tell you what it is, Spence!" he exclaimed, "I'm very much afraid I shall be committing an assault.

Certainly I shall if I don't soon learn some good racy Italian.

I must make out a little list of sentences, and get you or Mrs.Spence to translate them.

Such as 'Do you take me for a fool ?' or 'Be off, you scoundrel!' or 'I'll break every bone in your body!' That's the kind of thing practically needed in Naples, I find." "Been in conflict with coachmen again ?" asked Spence, laughing.
"Slightly! Never got into such a helpless rage in my life.

Two fellows kept up with me this afternoon for a couple of miles or so.