“D’you draw their cork in return?” asked Harrison.
“I argey it out with them. I say to them, ‘Now, gents, fightin’ is my profession, and I don’t fight for love any more than a doctor doctors for love, or a butcher gives away a loin chop. Put up a small purse, master, and I’ll do you over and proud. But don’t expect that you’re goin’ to come here and get glutted by a middle-weight champion for nothing.”
“That’s my way too, Tom,” said my burly neighbour. “If they put down a guinea on the counter - which they do if they ’ave been drinkin’ very ’eavy - I give them what I think is about a guinea’s worth and take the money.”
“But if they don’t?”
“Why, then, it’s a common assault, d’ye see, against the body of ’is Majesty’s liege, William Warr, and I ’as ’em before the beak next mornin’, and
