human
At sixty-five! cried the Auctioneer, leaning towards Grimes with his hammer poised,
gpt
I say--no sir! returned the Corn-chandler, slowly, and impressively,
human
I say no, sir,--I say--make it another--twenty pound, sir!
gpt
I get eighty-five! any advance on eighty-five?
human
Eighty-six!
gpt
Come sir, don't let a pound or so stand between you and a side-board that can't be matched in the length and breadth of the United Kingdom,--come, what do you say to another ten shillings?
human
I say, sir, said Grimes, with his gaze still riveted upon Bellew,
gpt
I say--no sir,--I say make it another--twenty pound sir!