Hardy, who was in an evil temper, pitched it on to the floor and, with a few incisive remarks on levity unbecoming to age, pursued his duties in gloomy silence.
A short time afterwards, however, he had to grapple with his partner's work in real earnest.

For the first time in his life the genial shipbroker was laid up with a rather serious illness.

A chill caught while bathing was going the round of certain unsuspected weak spots, and the patient, who was of an inquiring turn of mind, was taking a greater interest in medical works than his doctor deemed advisable.
"Most interesting study," he said, faintly, to Hardy, as the latter sat by his bedside one evening and tried to cheer him in the usual way by telling him that there was nothing the matter with him.

"There are dozens of different forms of liver complaint alone, and I've got 'em all." "Liver isn't much," said his visitor, with the confidence of youth.
"Mine is," retorted the invalid; "it's twice its proper size and still growing.

Base of the left lung is solidifying, or I'm much mistaken; the heart, instead of waltzing as is suitable to my time of life, is doing a galop, and everything else is as wrong as it can be." "When are you coming back ?" inquired the other.
"Back ?" repeated Swann.