I really did not follow Clement on this occasion.
With some hesitation I said: "I don't know that I quite understand." "I'm sure you don't," said Jack.

"I have feared for some time that your hair was getting too thick for the finer ideas of this household to penetrate to your brain.

Allow me to apply a little of this ointment to the parting, which in your case is more definite than with Eleanor; and as our lightest actions should proceed from principles, I may mention that the principle on which I propose to apply the Leather-softener to your scalp is that on which the blacksmith's wife gave your cholera medicine to the second girl, when she began with rheumatic fever--'it did such a deal of good to our William.' Now, this unguent has done 'a deal of good' to the leather of my boots.

Why should it not successfully lubricate the skin of your skull ?" Only the dread of "a row" between Jack and Clem enabled me to keep anything like gravity.
"Don't talk nonsense, Jack!" said I, as severely as I could.

(I fear that, like the rest of the world, I snubbed Jack rather than Clement, because his temper was sweeter, and less likely to resent it.) "Clement, I'm very stupid, but I don't quite see how what _you_ said applies to what _I_ said." "You said, 'How happy we were, that summer we went sketching!' or words to that effect.