―I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. Lord Howard de Walden’s.

―Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. Throwaway , says he. Takes the biscuit and talking about bunions. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre .

So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was anything he could lift on the nod, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up. Old mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.

―Not there, my child, says he.

―Keep your pecker up, says Joe. She’d have won the money only for the other dog.