"Why, sir, since you ask me, I should answer--begging your
parding--'eavens knows, sir!"

"Precisely! Anyway, I'm going there fast."

"Where, sir?"

"Heaven knows, Brimberly."

"Ah--er--certingly, sir!"

"Now, Brimberly, as a hard-headed, matter-of-fact, common-sense being,
what would you suggest for a poor devil who is sick and tired of
everything and most of all--of himself?"

"Why, sir, I should prescribe for that man change of hair, sir--travel,
sir. I should suggest to that man Hafghanistan or Hasia Minor, or both,
sir. There's your noo yacht a-laying in the river, sir--"

His master leant his square chin upon his square fist and still frowning
at the fire, gently shook his head.

"My good Brimberly," he sighed, "haven't I travelled in most parts of
the world?"

"Why, yes, sir, you've travelled, sir, very much so indeed, sir--you've
shot lions and tigers and a helephant or so, and exchanged sentiments
with raging 'eathen--as rage in nothing but a string o' beads--but what
about your noomerous possessions in Europe, sir?"