He was not at the moment in very good odour at Bow Street. Such epithets as Blockhead and Blunderer had been used in connection with his last case. 'Jeremiah Stubbs, miss,’ said the Runner. ‘I am here in the execution of my dooty.

Them Frenchies!’
‘Unchristian, that’s what I call ’em,’ responded Mr. Stubbs severely. ‘I fair compassionate that wench.

Today I feel like I did tomorrow.

If I must consort with rogues [...] I own I like them to be in the grand manner.

[...]if you talk any more flummery to me, Frederica, I shall give you one of my—er—icy set-downs!”(Alverstoke)

That drew a laugh from Jessamy, but he said, after a moment: “You had better flay me. It was my fault—all my fault!”

“I was wondering how long it would be before you contrived to convince yourself that you were to blame,” said Alverstoke caustically. “I haven’t the slightest wish to know how you arrived at such an addlebrained conclusion, so don’t put yourself to the trouble of telling me!