But out you go now, sharp.

If there's anything owing you, you can claim it in London.
"There are all my clothes--" Cathcart began.
Trent laid his hands upon his shoulders and threw him softly outside.
"I'll send your clothes to the hotel," he said.

"Take my advice, young man, and keep out of my sight till you can find a steamer to take you where they'll pay you for doing nothing.

You're the sort of man who irritates me and it's a nasty climate for getting angry in!" Cathcart picked himself up.

"Well, I should like to know who's going to make your road," he said spitefully.
"I'll make it myself," Trent roared.