You've shot your bolt here and it has gone home.

Go away and do some work, and see some things.' 'Get some of the fat off you; you're disgracefully out of condition,' said the Nilghai, making a plunge from the chair and grasping a handful of Dick generally over the right ribs.

'Soft as putty--pure tallow born of over-feeding.

Train it off, Dickie.' 'We're all equally gross, Nilghai.

Next time you have to take the field you'll sit down, wink your eyes, gasp, and die in a fit.' 'Never mind.