'I want half a sovereign of you,' roared another.

'Here's my half-crown,' said a third, handing one across the table to the fortunate winner.

A general settlement took place, in the midst of which the 'watch and appurts' were handed to Mr.Sponge.
'We'll drink Mr.Pacey's health,' said Mr.Puffington, helping himself to a bumper, and passing the lately replenished decanters.

'He's done the thing like a sportsman, and deserves to have luck with his deal.

Your good health, Mr.Pacey!' continued he, addressing himself specifically to our friend, 'and luck to your horse.' 'Your good health, Mr.Pacey--your good health, Mr.Pacey--your good health, Mr.Pacey,' then followed in the various intonations that mark the feelings of the speaker towards the toastee, as the bottles passed round the table.
The excitement seemed to have given fresh zest to the wine, and those who had been shirking, or filling on heel-taps, now began filling bumpers, while those who always filled bumpers now took back hands.
There is something about horse-dealing that seems to interest every one.
Conversation took a brisk turn, and nothing but the darkness of the night prevented their having the horse out and trying him.