It wasn't with di'monds, 'twas fish scales, but you blazed.

You could alwiz put on dog.

You sold flathead, Jinny, but I give the devil his due--you did it like a duchess." At this point the Napoleonic footman intervened again.

He took Nickie by his rags and the nape of his neck, and running him tip-toe out of the garden, tumbled him headlong on the grass-grown roadside.

Nickie rejoined Stub McGuire quite unconcerned.
"That's a new society game, my friend," he said.