"Let's have it.

No more of your flamin' made-up tales.

Wot took you to shove the _Andromeda_ into a rat-trap of this sort ?" David staggered away from the table.

He seemed to be laboring for breath.
"'Arf a mo'.

No need to yowl at me like that," he protested.
He fumbled with the lock of a corner cupboard, opened it, and drew forth a decanter and some glasses.