Many's the time that I've all but indited the letter, but I'll do it now.

Upon me conscience, ye may dipind upon me." Could I depend upon his shambling conscience?
Every instinct of an honest man about me answered, No.

As he had done for fifteen years past, so he would do for fifteen years to come.

As long as he was comfortable himself, his mother would never get a line out of him.

Perhaps his voice recalled hers, but I almost fancied I could hear her as I sat there.--"I ax your pardon, darlin'.