sherry. How many times have I not explained to him that sherry has double the tonic vinosity of any other wine and may not be tampered with by the sensitive. But he chose at present to make light of it, almost as if he were chaffing above his knowledge of some calamity.
"Some book Johnny says a chap is either a fool or a physician at forty," he remarked, drawing the blanket more closely about him.
"I should hardly rank you as a Harley Street consultant, sir," I swiftly retorted, which was slanging him enormously because he had turned forty. I mean to say, there was but one thing he could take me as meaning him to be, since at forty I considered him no physician. But at least I had not been too blunt, the touch about the Harley Street consultant being rather neat, I thought, yet not too subtle for him.
He now demanded a pipe of tobacco, and for a time smoked in silence. I could see that his mind worked painfully.
"Stiffish lot, those Americans," he said at last.
"They do so many things one doesn't do," I answered.
"And their brogue is not what one could call top-hole, is it now? How often they say 'I guess!' I fancy they must say it a score of times in a half-hour."
"I fancy they do, sir," I agreed.
"I fancy that Johnny with the eyebrows will say it even oftener."
"I fancy so, sir. I fancy I've counted it well up to that."
"I fancy you're quite right. And the chap 'guesses' when he awfully well knows, too. That's the essential
