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Bruce went into the back room, and Buster poked himself in the ribs with his thumb, grinning and winking at his own reflection in the cracked mirror. "Oh, say! but I'm a peach!" he told himself in a confidential whisper. "If der college perfessers don't git arter me ergin I'll make me forchune right yere."
"It's not often I have the good forchune to be in leddies' society," Mr. Quilty continued. "Me tongue has lost th' right twist for compliments; but, sure, if ut hadn't ut wouldn't begin to do th' pair iv yez justice. Oh, divil th' bit iv soodher am I givin' yez. It's two pretty women yez are. Well, well, I'm an old felly who's had his day. Ye won't mind me.
'D'ye s'pose I niwer see a lookin'-glass? Where's the man'll marry me widout me money? "Me face is me forchune, sor," sez she. "Tek it to the gravel bank an' have it cashed, then," sez he. Where's the man that'll have me, face an' all, lackin' the coin? Woora, woora, answer me that! "Well, as usual, it was up to me. There wasn't no escapin' it.
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