one's back is simply too--I do _not_ aspire to--ah--to tickle folks to
death!

_Miss T._ (_soothingly_). Well, I guess there's no harm done. I didn't
feel like being in any imminent danger of perishing that way in your
society. You're real high-toned and ever so improving, and that's
better than tickling; every time. And I want you to show me round
this collection and give me a few notions. Seems to me there was
considerable sand in WIERTZ; sort of spread himself around a good
deal, didn't he? I presume, though, he slept bad, nights.

(_She makes the tour of the Gallery, accompanied by CULCHARD, who
admires her, against his better judgment, more and more._) ... I
declare if that isn't your friend Mr. PODBURY just come in! I believe
I'll have to give you up to him.

_Culch._ (_eagerly_). I beg you will not think it necessary. He--he
has a guide already. _He_ does not require my services. And, to
be plain, my poor friend--though, an excellent fellow according to
his--ah--lights--is a companion whose society occasionally amounts to
a positive infliction.

_Miss T._ Well, I find him too chinny myself, times. Likely he won't
notice us if we don't seem to be aware of him.

[_They continue to inspect the canvases._

_A Belgian Guide_ (_who has made an easy capture of PODBURY at the
Hotel entrance_). Hier now is a shdrainch beecture. "De toughts and
veesions of a saivered haid." Fairsst meenut afder degapitation; de