Dickie, Dickie.
[Much alarmed he gets off the sofa.
Barlow.
Is my liver very wrong?
Dickie.
[Completely abstracted.] It’s in a beastly state. I thought it would be.
Barlow.
[In tragic tones.] Richard, tell me the worst at once.
Dickie.
[Impatiently.] Don’t be such an old donkey. Your liver’s as right as mine is. There’s nothing the matter with you except that you do yourself too well, and don’t take enough exercise.