“How am I?”
“Yes. Getting settled down again?”
“How am I? Well, a little better this morning. Do I smell of yellow soap?”
“No.”
“Wonder at it. I spent nearly all yesterday trying to get off the London dirt and smoke. Treat to get back to where there’s room to breathe.”
“Ah, you never did like London.”
“And London never liked me, so we’re even there. Well,” he continued after a pause filled up by a low muttering grunt, “what do you want? You didn’t send for me to come and tell you that I had caught a cold on my journey down or got a rheumatic twinge.”
“No, no, Luke, of course not.”
“Nice one, ’pon my word!” muttered Crampton.
“Well, what is it?”