You'd better go home and rest." "Rest?
Why, I haven't done anything to make me tired." "Well, you don't know how soon you may be tired, and you'd better take your rest in advance.

All right, John," he said in a louder tone, "I'm with you." When they entered the office of the Press Club, a forensic voice, followed by laughter, bore to them the intelligence that Mr.Flummers was in the front room, declaiming his recent adventures.

They found the orator measuredly stepping the short distance between this round table and the post on which was fixed the button of the electric bell.
Led by fondness to believe that some one, moved to generosity, might ask him to ring for the drinks, he showed a disposition to loiter whenever he reached the post, and the light of eager expectancy and the shadow of sore disappointment played a trick pantomime on his countenance.
"Oh, ho, ho, here come two of my staff.

John, I have been talking for an hour, and the bell is rusting from disuse." "Why don't you ring it on your own account ?" "Oh, no; you can't expect one man to do everything." "Go on with your story." "But is there anything in it ?" "If you mean your story, I don't think there's much in it." "If you cut it short enough," said Mortimer, "we'll all contribute." "There spoke a disgruntled Englishman," Flummers exclaimed.

"Having no humor himself, he scowls on the--the"-- He scalloped the air, but it failed to bring the right word.