"What's happened?
Another off-sider?
Have you broken that finger again?
Honest Injun, what's up ?" "Nothing, Out; I'm just kind of half dead.

We had two thirty-minute halves, with forty-'leven coaches yelling at us every second, and a field like a turnip patch just before seeding.

Oh, no, there's nothing the matter; only if you know of any quiet corner where I can die in peace, lead me there, Out.

I won't keep you long; it will soon be over." "No, I don't, my flippant young friend, but I know something a heap better." "Nothing can be better any more, Out.

Still--well, what is it ?" "A couple of hot lemonades and a pair of fat sandwiches at Noster's.
Come along." "You're not so bad, Out," said Joel as they hurried up the street.