'Shouldn't I hate the man took my sweetheart from me and popped me into the noose with his sister instead ?' Madge was now advised to be overcome by the smell of rum-shrub:--a mere fancy drink tossed off by heroes in their idle moments, before they settle down to the serious business of real drinking, Kit protested.

He simulated envious admiration of known heroes, who meant business, and scorned any of the weak stuff under brandy, and went at it till the bottles were the first to give in.

For why?
They had to stomach an injury from the world or their young woman, and half-way on they shoved that young person and all enemies aside, trampled 'em.

That was what Old O'Devy signified; and many's the man driven to his consolation by a cat of a girl, who's like the elements in their puffs and spits at a gallant ship, that rides the tighter and the tighter for all they can do to capsize.

'Tighter than ever I was tight I'll be to-night, if you can't behave.' They fell upon the smack of words.