"HE SLEEPS."
"Punch," I reply.
"Ticket?"
"Left at home."
"Bring it next time."
"Certainly," say I, relieved. He slumbers again. I strain over to see who is speaking. This wakes the gentleman with the real gold chain again. He gazes down upon me. I feel smaller.
"What are you?"
"Punch."
"Eh! Where's ticket?"
"Left at home."