You look out for me; best take care I don't bite you! Wolf--wolf! Ah! It's up four flights at the end of the hall, very dark, eight thousand dollars in a green cloth sack, and lots of lights a-burning.

See how long my finger nails are--regular claws; that's the wolf, the brute! Why can't I talk in my mouth instead of in my throat?
That's the devil of it.

When you paint on steel and iron your colours don't dry out true; all the yellows turn green.

But it would 'a' been all straight if they hadn't fired me! I never talked to anybody--that was _my_ business, wasn't it?
And when all those eight thousand little lights begin to burn red, why, of course that makes you nervous! So I have to drink a great deal of water and chew butcher's paper.

That fools him and he thinks he's eating.