What I want is sea air.

There's nothing like Yarmouth.

Now, when I go there I sleep...." "My liver's very bad," interrupted Swithin slowly.

"Dreadful pain here;" and he placed his hand on his right side.
"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.