"I am so demmed fatigued, and your preface was unduly long....

Beastly bad form, I know, going to sleep during a sermon...

but I haven't had a wink of sleep all day....

I pray you to excuse me..." "Will you condescend to listen, Sir Percy ?" queried Chauvelin peremptorily, "or shall I call the guard and give up all thoughts of treating with you ?" "Just whichever you demmed well prefer, sir," rejoined Blakeney impatiently.
And once more stretching out his long limbs, he buried his hands in the pockets of his breeches and apparently prepared himself for another quiet sleep.

Chauvelin looked at him for a moment, vaguely wondering what to do next.