‘Now listen, Jack, will you? I am somewhat given to lying: my occasions require it from time to time. But I do not choose to have any man alive tell me of it.’ ‘Oh no, no, no, ’ cried Jack. ‘I should never dream of doing such a thing. Not, ’ he added, recollecting himself and blushing, ‘not when I am in my right mind. Quite apart from my love for you, it is far, far too dangerous. Hush: mum’s the word. Tace is the Latin for a candle. I quite understand - am amazed I did not smoke it before: what a deep old file you are. But I twig it now.’ ‘Do you, my dear? Bless you.’
— What a brilliant piece of dialoge from The Post Captain by P. O'Brien.