Sea, Sand and Hotels full.
THE COUNTER-IRRITANT
Most men have a hobby. Timbrell-Timson's is to bear on his narrow shoulders the burden of Middle Europe. He calls it Mittel-Europa. Lately he has been sharing his burden with me.
"You know," he said, frowning—he always frowns, because of the burden—"I am rather uneasy about the Czecho-Slovaks."
"I'm not too comfortable about them myself," I said truthfully.
"There seems to be a certain lack of stability about their new constitution," said T.-T., "a—a—a—what shall I say?"
"A—er—um—a," I put in.
"Exactly; just so," said T.-T. He then got into his stride and gave me twenty minutes' Czecho-Slovakism when I was dying to discover whether Hobbs had scored his two-millionth run.