Chuck the drink till we've seen this thing through at any rate!" "You don't know my little girl," Monty muttered.

"How should you?
She'd care little for money or gewgaws, but she'd break her heart to see her old father--come to this--broken down--worthless--a hopeless, miserable wretch.

It's too late.

Trent, I'll have just a glass I think.

It will do me good.