"May I ask you to inform me from what you're suffering now?"
He was a little disposed towards valetudinarianism, and was apt to imagine himself visited by divers diseases. He winced.
"Agatha, the only thing from which I am suffering at this moment is--is----"
"Yes; is what?"
"A feeling of irritation at my own weakness in allowing myself to be persuaded by you to act in opposition to my better judgment."
"Dear me! You must be ill. That you are ill is shown by the fact that your tie is crooked again. Don't consider my feelings, and pray present yourself in my drawing-room in any condition you choose. But perhaps you will be so good as to let me know if there is any sense in the stuff you have been talking about a bag."
"Agatha, you remember that bag you took from my room?"
"That old brown leather thing?"
"It was made of brown leather--a week or two ago?"
"A week or two? Why, it was months ago."