But if we are told that, then down comes the cartloads of bricks." "Oh, you are a brick all right, Mr.Taynton," said the boy.

"I could stand a cartload of you." Mr.Taynton, like his laugh, was comfortable and middle-aged.

Solicitors are supposed to be sharp-faced and fox-like, but his face was well-furnished and comely, and his rather bald head beamed with benevolence and dinner.
"My dear boy," he said, "and it is your birthday--I cannot honour either you or this wonderful port more properly than by drinking your health in it." He began and finished his glass to the health he had so neatly proposed, and Morris laughed.
"Thank you very much," he said.

"Mother, do send the port round.

What an inhospitable woman!" Mrs.Assheton rose.
"I will leave you to be more hospitable than me, then, dear," she said.
"Shall we go, Madge?
Indeed, I am afraid you must, if you are to catch the train to Falmer." Madge Templeton got up with her hostess, and the two men rose too.