Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. '—'They can't,' says I. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. " "Never, while I've breath in my body, Captain," rejoined Blueskin, who had joined them. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome.
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