"H'm, he don't seem flourishing." "Don't abuse a bird that's come twelve miles in a bag on purpose to cheer you up.

He's a match for anything you can bring." "Tuts, man, he's dull--no colour nor condition.

Get along with 'ee; I wouldn' ask a bird of mine to break the Sabbath for a wastrel like that." Sir Harry drew out a shagreen-covered case and opened it.

Within, on a lining of pale blue velvet, lay two small sharp instruments of steel, very highly polished.

He lifted one, felt its point, replaced it, set down the case on the carpet, and fell to toying with the ears of the Gordon setter, which had come sniffing out of curiosity.
"You're a very obstinate man," said Squire Moyle.