“It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me the truth. It was the truth; every word you said was true. My hair is red and I’m freckled and skinny and ugly. What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
“That ain’t so bad—you get over that. I wish somebody’d break my arm, ole chappie—damfidon’t! Then they’d treat me better—hic—hole me up, ole sport! Whuzzit you wamme do?”