That's unimportant.

For heaven's sake, Portlaw, you're becoming chuckle-headed with all your feeding and inertia and pampered self-indulgence.

You're the limit!--with your thirty-eight-inch girth and your twin chins and baby wrists! You know, it's pitiable when I think what a clean-cut, decent-looking, decently set-up fellow you were only two years ago!--it's enough to make a cat sick!" "Can I help what I look like!" bellowed Portlaw wrathfully.
"What an idiot question!" said Malcourt with weary patience.

"All you've got to do is to cuddle yourself less, and go out into the fresh air on your ridiculous legs--" "Ridiculous!" gasped the other.

"Well, I'm damned if I stand _that_--!" "You won't be able to stand at all if you continue eating and sitting in arm-chairs.