Their lazy, blurred voices fell pleasantly on his ears, but his own brisk brogue clung to his tongue.
"A stentor, me ignorant broth of a boy!" cried Mrs. Tarleton, aping his brogue.
It irritated her so much that during one formal call she aped Gerald’s brogue to her aunt’s distress.
And suddenly she grinned for, as a voice thick with brogue and whisky came to her, raised in "Peg in a Low-backed Car," she knew.
And the valet, who had begun to attempt a brogue out of admiration for his new master, made requisite answer in a combination of Geechee and County Meath that would have puzzled anyone except those two alone.
No one would have thought that red-haired Bridget Flaherty, who had a sun-defying white skin and a brogue that could be cut with a butter knife, had stolen her father’s hidden hoard to come to America to be chambermaid in a New York hotel.
There’s none in the County can touch you, nor in the state," he informed his mount, with pride, the brogue of County Meath still heavy on his tongue in spite of thirty-nine years in America.
And he said with a brogue you could cut with a butterknife: ’And were ye afther thinkin’ an O’Hara of Tara would be follyin’ the dirthy thracks of a Goddamned Orangeman and a God-damned poor white?’