So, accorden' to rules, you writes a letter allowin' buzziness and that sorter thing detains you.

But wot's the facts?
You're a gentleman, and as gentlemen you and George comes to the opinion that you're rather playin' it for all it's worth in this yer house, you know--comin' here night and day, off and on, reg'lar sociable and fam'ly like, and makin' people talk about things they ain't any call to talk about, and, what's a darned sight more, YOU FELLOWS ain't got any right YET to allow 'em to talk about, d'ye see ?" he paused, out of breath.
It was Miss Christie's turn to move about.

In changing her seat to the piano-stool, so as to be nearer her visitor, she brushed down some loose music, which Whiskey Dick hastened to pick up.
"Pray don't mind it," she said, "pray don't, really--let it be--" But Whiskey Dick, feeling himself on safe ground in this attention, persisted to the bitter end of a disintegrated and well-worn "Travatore." "So that is what Mr.Munroe said," she remarked quietly.
"Not just then, in course, but it's what's bin on his mind and in his talk for days off and on," returned Dick, with a knowing smile and a nod of mysterious confidence.

"Bless your soul, Miss Carr, folks like you and me don't need to have them things explained.

That's what I said to him, sez I.'Don't send no note, but just go up there and hev it out fair and square, and say what you do mean.' But they would hev the note, and I kalkilated to bring it.