NORTH.
It is—it is the voice of Talboys. Don't move an inch. Stand still for ten seconds—on the very same site, that I may have one steady look at you, to make assurance doubly sure—and then let us meet each other half-way in a Cornish hug.
TALBOYS.
Are we going to wrestle already, Mr North?
NORTH.
Stand still ten seconds more. He is He—You are You—gentlemen—H. G. Talboys—Seward, my crutch—Buller, your arm—
TALBOYS.
Wonderful feat of agility! Feet up to the ceiling—
NORTH.
Don't say ceiling—