human
Oh, by the saints! he roared;
gpt
At your service, gentlemen—as dry as I was wet when we last encountered. Will none of you fill me a brimmer?
human
Now for your news,
gpt
Why, my lord, I pledged the Metcalf honour that we’d bring Rupert to you, and he lies no further off than Knaresborough.
human
Good, laughed the Irishman.
gpt
I said you could trust a man who swore by the sword he happened not to be carrying at the moment.
human
And your friend?
gpt
Oh, just my brother—the dwarf of our company. Little, but full of meat, as our Yoredale farmers say when they bring small eggs to market. To be precise, Kit here is worth three of me. They call him the White Knight in Oxford.