And mind you don't set me off talking over-much downstairs.

I talk in her presence like the usher of the Court to the judge.

'Tis the secret of my happiness.' 'Where are those rascally dress-boots of mine ?' cried Patrick.
Captain Con pitched the contents of the portmanteau right and left.
'Never mind the boots, my boy.

Your legs will be under the table during dinner, and we'll institute a rummage up here between that and the procession to the drawing-room, where you'll be examined head to foot, devil a doubt of it.

But say, where have you been?
She'll be asking, and we're in a mess already, and may as well have a place to name to her, somewhere, to excuse the gash you've made in her dinner.