'It weren't my fault this time.' 'It was one of those accidents that can never be foreseen,' said I, affecting a dignity that I was far from feeling.

'Some one recognised me.' 'Which on 'em, Mr.Anne ?' said the rascal.
'That is a senseless question; it can make no difference who it was,' I returned.
'No, nor that it can't!' cried Rowley.

'I say, Mr.Anne, sir, it's what you would call a jolly mess, ain't it?
looks like "clean bowled-out in the middle stump," don't it ?' 'I fail to understand you, Rowley.' 'Well, what I mean is, what are we to do about this one ?' pointing to the postillion in front of us, as he alternately hid and revealed his patched breeches to the trot of his horse.

'He see you get in this morning under _Mr.Ramornie_--I was very piticular to _Mr.Ramornie_ you, if you remember, sir--and he see you get in again under Mr.Saint Eaves, and whatever's he going to see you get out under?
that's what worries me, sir.

It don't seem to me like as if the position was what you call _stratetegic_!' '_Parrrbleu_! will you let me be!' I cried.