His own measure he very slightly diluted, and drank it off at once.
'You're at a bad pass, my boy,' remarked Rolfe.

'What's wrong?
Something more than usual, I know.

Make a clean breast of it.' Morphew continued to declare that he was only low-spirited from the longstanding causes, and, though Rolfe did not believe him, nothing more could at present be elicited.

The talk turned to photography, but still had no life in it.
'I think you had better dine with me this evening,' said Harvey.
'Impossible.

I wish I could.