Then he shook his head in grief of heart and vexation of spirit, and resumed his knife and fork.

Kate watched it all, and was greatly amused.

"I never saw a man so nearly broken-hearted," she said, in her letter to Alice the next day.
"Eleven, thirteen, eighteen, twenty-one," said Cheesacre to himself, reckoning up in his misery the number of pounds sterling which he would have to pay for being ill-treated in this way.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Captain Bellfield, as soon as the eating was over, "if I may be permitted to get upon my legs for two minutes, I am going to propose a toast to you." The real patron of the feast had actually not yet swallowed his last bit of cheese.

The thing was indecent in the violence of its injustice.
"If you please, Captain Bellfield," said the patron, indifferent to the cheese in his throat, "I'll propose the toast." "Nothing on earth could be better, my dear fellow," said the captain, "and I'm sure I should be the last man in the world to take the job out of the hands of one who would do it so much better than I can; but as it's your health that we're going to drink, I really don't see how you are to do it." Cheesacre grunted and sat down.

He certainly could not propose his own health, nor did he complain of the honour that was to be done him.