"Four or five weeks! What " "Careful now, or you'll use up all your questions. When you set that Camel down in a shell hole she flipped over and your head was slightly softer than a big rock that happened to be handy. I would have bet on the rock being softest, but it seems I'd lost. You went blotto. A bunch of soldiers dragged you out from under what was left of that Camel which wasn't much.

She wasn't exactly blotto, but she had evidently laid a good foundation for a first-class jag. After all, it was only two thirty in the afternoon. The other sister Nelda didn't say anything. She merely stood and stared at Rand distrustfully. Rand doubted that she ordinarily gave men the hostile eye.

"It would seem, then, that I must have revelled a trifle whole-heartedly last night. I was possibly a little blotto. Not whiffled, perhaps, but indisputably blotto. Did I make much noise coming in?" "No, sir. You were very quiet." "Ah! A dashed bad sign!" Freddie moved to the table, and poured himself a cup of coffee. "The cream-jug is to your right, sir," said the helpful Parker.

Looking on the jolly old stuff when it was red and what not, what?" "Exactly." Archie nodded. "Dear old Squiffy was always rather-a lad for the wassail-bowl. When I met him in Paris, I remember, he was quite tolerably blotto." "Precisely. And the failing has, I regret to say, grown on him since he returned from the war. My poor sister was extremely worried.

He staggered up the farther side of the table towards him, butting into a waiter on the way and pausing for a moment to curse him, Flossie jogged Wingate's elbow. "What fun!" she whispered. "Here's Lord Dredlinton, absolutely blotto!" Wingate from the first had a prescience of disagreeable things.

The evil that we saw in the world and the army smashed our allegiance to the old moral codes. We suddenly lost the old anchors and blew adrift, strange new theories filling our sails. We ceased to think there was any harm in being occasionally "blotto" at night, or in employing the picturesque army word "bloody."

The words for drunkenness are innumerable "jingled," "oiled," "tanked to the wide," "well sprung," "up the pole," "blotto," etc.; but I smell the modern in some of these; their flavour is of London taverns rather than of the dusty barrack squares of India, Egypt, Malta, and Gibraltar. But who can delve to the ultimate springs of slang? A verb which I never met before I enlisted was "to spruce."

When they were off again, she asked, in a voice none too steady, what he had been doing to the wretched man behind her. "Made him absolutely blind blotto," he answered. "You sounded rather dreadful, Dick," she said; adding, after a hesitation, "Cruel almost." His face was set on the road ahead of him, and his profile, she thought, though not definitely vindictive in expression, was hard as stone.

As regards his getting blotto and turning the prize-giving ceremonies at Market Snodsbury Grammar School into a sort of two-reel comic film, I will say nothing, for frankly I enjoyed it.