Don't look for health in a phial or a retort; but in an affinity."
"Drewitt says that an affinity is like a hair-shirt; it enables you to realise the soul through the medium of the senses."
"That's a very poor epigram. Some day you'll discover it for yourself." Tallis drew his pipe from his pocket and proceeded to fill it from Beresford's pouch that lay on the table.
"I suppose," remarked Beresford presently, "that there's nothing, no law, convention or unrepealed statute in the Defense of the Realm Act by which you can insist on my going to Folkestone."
Tallis shook his head and proceeded to light his pipe.
"Then I shall go to London," announced Beresford with decision.
Tallis puffed vigorously at his pipe; but made no comment.
"I said I shall go to London," repeated Beresford.
"You did."
"Then why the devil can't you say something about it?"
"There's nothing to be said," was the smiling retort. "May I ask why you have come to this decision?"
"I'm sick of the country. It's—it's so infernally monotonous," he added somewhat lamely.
Tallis nodded his head comprehendingly.
"Why on earth can't you say something?" snapped
