“Damn the physic!” The Gadfly had reached the irritable stage of convalescence, and was inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time. “W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all sorts of horrors for now the pain is gone?”
“Just because I don't want it to come back. You wouldn't like it if you collapsed when Signora Bolla is here and she had to give you opium.”
“My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come back it will come; it's not a t-toothache to be frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house on fire. However, I suppose you must have your way.”
He took the glass with his left hand, and the sight of the terrible scars recalled Galli to the former subject of conversation.
“By the way,” he asked; “how did you get so much knocked about? In the war, was it?”
“Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of secret dungeons and——”
“Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's benefit. Really, I suppose it was in the war with Brazil?”
“Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting in the savage districts and one thing and another.”
“Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You can fasten your shirt; I have quite done. You seem to have had an exciting time of it out there.”
“Well, of course you can't live in savage countries without getting a few adventures once in a way,” said the Gadfly lightly; “and you can hardly expect them all to be pleasant.”