I wish she'd giv' somebody else a turn.

I'm fair sick of 'er.' "'But you were enthusiastic about her a month ago!' I exclaimed in astonishment.
"'Smythe may 'ave been,' he said; 'there ain't no accounting for that ninny, 'is 'ead's full of starch.

Anyhow, I don't take 'er on while I'm myself.

I'm too jolly fly.' "'That sort o' gal's all right enough to lark with,' he continued; 'but yer don't want to marry 'em.

They don't do yer no good.