“You like it then?” said Mr Burne smiling.
“Oh, yes! I don’t know when I felt so well and happy. It is delightful.”
“That’s right,” cried Mr Burne. “Come, now; we must throw the invalid overboard.”
Lawrence laughed.
“I mean the disease,” said Mr Burne. “No more talking about being ill.”
“No,” said Lawrence quietly, and speaking as if he felt every word he uttered to be true; “I feel now as if I were growing better every hour.”
“And so you are,” cried the professor. “Come, don’t think about yourself, but set to work and take photographs.”
“Nonsense!” cried Mr Burne; “let the boy be, now he is comfortable. Photographs indeed! Where’s your tackle?”
“I mean mental photographs,” said the professor laughing.
“Then, why didn’t you say so, man? Good gracious me, if we lawyers were to write down one thing when we mean another, a pretty state of affairs we should have. The world would be all lawsuits. Humph; who’d think that Smyrna was such a dirty, shabby place, to look at it from here?”