I nodded my head. All men call me that.
"Do you ever give consultations in a place like this?" I asked.
He would have made me a professional answer had I not stopped him.
"Talk away," said he, and I talked.
It is marvellous how subtle and how eloquent one can be over the description of one's ills when there is really nothing the matter at all. I talked for ten minutes.
"It comes to this," said I, in conclusion, "every man jack of us is over-civilized. We're like a breed of race-horses that has outbred the strain which made it famous. We're over-bred."
He nodded.
"The worst of consultation in a place like this," said he, "is that I can't look at your tongue."
I don't suppose that Dandy heard this. In any case the sun was burning down on his head. Whichever it was, a broad smile wrinkled his face and his tongue lolled out. I pointed to him.
"You can look at that," said I; "we live the same sort of lives. Nothing the matter with that, is there?"