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Dave felt that an effort should be made to save the conversation. The bull's nose and its ring suggested a line to go on. "The lady," said he decisively, "had rings on her fingers. Dimings and pearls and scrapphires" he took this very striking word by storm "and she giv' 'em me for to hold one at a time.... Yorce she did!"
"Let me do a bit of listening.... What was it the party said again, Davy just precisely?..." Dave was even less audible than before in his response to this, and Uncle Mo evidently softened it for repetition: "Said if Micky told him any etceterer lies he'd rip his heart out? Was that it, Dave?" "Yorce," said Dave, aloud and emphatically. "This time!"
Dave gathered himself together for an effort of intense fidelity: "She said she said 'He's much too dirty to kiss in the open street' she said, 'and better not to touch. Yorce!" He seemed magnanimous towards Gwen, in spite of her finical delicacy. Aunt M'riar turned his face to the light, by the chin. "What's the child been at?" said she. "The boys had some corks," was Dave's explanation.
Don't you, Dave? "Dave tore himself away from the pleasing spectacle of his enemy in hospital, and came to confirm this. 'Yorce! said he, with emphasis. 'Me and Dolly! He recited rapidly all the days of the week, an appointment being imputed to each. But he weakened the force of his rhetoric by adding: 'Only not some of 'em always! Mrs.
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