[Presenting his countenance for inspection.
Podb. Not much of your original features, old fellow! (He roars with laughter.) You've got a pair of cheeks like a raised map!
Culch. It—it's going down. Nothing to what it was, half an hour ago!
Podb. Then I'm jolly glad you didn't call me earlier, that's all!
Culch. It does feel a little inflamed. I wonder if I could get a little—er—violet powder, or something——?
Podb. (with a painful want of sympathy). Violet powder! Buy a blue veil—a good thick one!
Culch. What sort of impression do you suppose I should get of Venice with a blue veil on?
Podb. Can't say—but a pleasanter one than Venice will get of you without it. You don't mean to face the fair Miss Trotter while you're like that, do you?
Culch. (with dignity). Most certainly I do. I am much mistaken in Miss Trotter if she will attach the slightest importance to a mere temporary—er—disfigurement. These swellings never do last long. Do they now?
Podb. Oh, not more than a month or so, I dare say, if you can keep from touching them. (He laughs again.) Excuse me, old chap, but I just got you in a new light. Those mosquitoes have paid you out for that pastille—by Jove, they have!