"Then we must show 'em," he replied.
"The Franciscan gospel," I sighed, for, as I have said, he was a nice boy, still trailing a wisp or two of glory.
"And besides," he went on, "people always like to talk about their weak nerves, don't they?"
He was getting in under my guard now to bleed me of copy, so I stepped aside.
"Play cricket?" I asked him.
"A bit," he confessed.
"Ever stopped a rot?"
"Sometimes," he replied warily.
"How did you do it?" I inquired.
He laughed again.