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"Linen," said Franklin, "or is it gloves?" "Ned," said Battersleigh solemnly, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "ye're the dearest boy in the world. Ye're fit to be lance sergeant yersilf in the ould Tinth Rigiment. Right ye are, quite right. White, white, me boy, is the first colour of a gintleman! White, to show the integrity of his honour and the claneness of his merit roll.
"That it's a crying shame for a man to kape company with with you, an' at the same time be chake by jowl with a woman iv her stamp." "And why?" "To come drippin' from the muck to dirty yer claneness! An' ye can ask why?" "But wait, Matt, wait a moment. Granting your premises " "Little I know iv primises," he growled. "'Tis facts I'm dalin' with." Frona bit her lip. "Never mind.
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