We'll set that right in five minutes." "Eh?
How did you guess that ?" asked Trebooze, with a larger oath than usual.
"Oh, we doctors are men of the world," said Tom, in a cheerful and insinuating tone, as he mixed his man a draught.
"You doctors?
You're a cock of a different hackle from old Heale, then." "I trust so," said Tom.
"By George, I feel better already.

I say, you're a trump; I suppose you're Heale's new partner, the man who was washed ashore!" Tom nodded assent; "I say--How do you sell that honey-dew ?" "I don't sell it; I'll give you as much as you like, only you shan't smoke it till after dinner." "Shan't ?" said Trebooze, testy and proud.
"Not with my leave, or you'll be complaining two hours hence that I am a humbug, and have done you no good.

Get on your horse, and have four hours' gallop on the downs, and you'll feel like a buffalo bull by two o'clock." Trebooze looked at him with a stupid curiosity and a little awe.

He saw that Tom's cool self-possession was not meant for impudence; and something in his tone and manner told him that the boast of being "a man of the world" was not untrue.

And of all kinds of men, a man of the world was the man of whom Trebooze stood most in awe.