‘A nobbler o′ rum,’ says I. Then he orders a nobbler of rum for me and a nobbler of whisky for ′imself.
‘Fer goodness′ sake, Doreen! Give the gent a nobbler of brandy and stop making trouble.’ It′s the little weasel bloke what speaks.
‘Much obliged,’ I says to him. ‘Nobbler, is it?’ Doreen turns on her heel and she′s about to vanish into the main bar when I shouts after her, ‘Nobbler of Cape, miss!’
This done, he waves his hat and declares his nag can lick anything on the ground—for nobblers round.