"Jiminy crimps! I feel better." The stranger's smile broadened.

"Glad to hear it, I'm sure," he said, slowly.

"So do I, though there's still room for improvement.

What was your particular ailment?
Mine seems to have been water on the brain." He sat up and shakily ran a hand through his wet hair as he spoke.
Atkins, his surprise doubled by this extraordinary behavior, could think of nothing to say.
"Good morning," continued the young man, as if the meeting had been the most casual and ordinary possible; "I think you said a moment ago that you were feeling better.

No relapse, I trust." "Relapse?
What in the world?
Are you crazy?
I ain't sick." "That's good.