“Want of exercise,” muttered James, his eyes on the china. He quickly added: “I get a pain there, too.”

Swithin reddened, a resemblance to a turkey-cock coming upon his old face.

“Exercise!” he said. “I take plenty: I never use the lift at the Club.”

“I didn’t know,” James hurried out. “I know nothing about anybody; nobody tells me anything.⁠ ⁠…”

Swithin fixed him with a stare:

“What do you do for a pain there?”

James brightened.

“I take a compound⁠—”

“How are you, uncle?”