"Good morning."
"I just looked in," said Leavesley, in a light-hearted way, "as I was going by, to see how you were."
This was a very bad opening.
"Sit down," said Hancock. "Um—I wasn't aware that there was anything the matter with me."
"You were complaining of the gout last time."
"Oh, bother the gout!" said the old gentleman, who hated to be reminded of his infirmity. "It isn't gout—Garrod says it's Rheumatoid Arthritis."
Leavesley repented of having played the gout gambit.
"—Rheumatoid Arthritis. Well, what are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm painting."