"I tell you what," says Mr. George. "If you want to converse with me, you must speak out. I am one of the roughs, and I can't go about and about. I haven't the art to do it. I am not clever enough. It don't suit me. When you go winding round and round me," says the trooper, putting his pipe between his lips again, "damme, if I don't feel as if I was being smothered!"
And he inflates his broad chest to its utmost extent as if to assure himself that he is not smothered yet.

"If you want to converse with me," says Mr. George, "you must speak out. 