Worse luck! I assure ye, I'd be aghast at the brutes we men can be, if I wasn't more amazed that we're as good as we are, when the best and gentlest of your sex--the moulders of our childhood, the desire of our manhood--demand so little for all that you alone can give.

There were conceivable uses in women preferring the biggest brutes of barbarous times, but it's not so now; and boys will be civilised boys, and men will be civilised men, sweet sister, when you _do_ expect it, and when your grace and favours are the rewards of nobleness, and not the easy prize of selfishness and savagery." My father spoke fairly.
"There's some truth in what you say, Pat." "And small grace in my saying it.

Forgive me, John." That's the way Uncle Patrick flares up and cools down, like a straw bonfire.

But my father makes allowances for him; first, because he is an Irishman, and, secondly, because he's a cripple.
* * * * * I love my mother dearly, and I can do anything I like with her.

I always could.