"My dear Jarndyce," said Mr. Skimpole, "you know what I am: I am a child. Be cross to me if I deserve it. But I have a constitutional objection to this sort of thing. I always had, when I was a medical man. He's not safe, you know. There's a very bad sort of fever about him."
Mr. Skimpole had retreated from the hall to the drawing-room again and said this in his airy way, seated on the music-stool as we stood by.

"My dear Jarndyce," said Mr. Skimpole, "you know I am a child. But he's not safe, you know. There's a very bad fever about him."
Mr. Skimpole retreated to the drawing-room again as he said this in his airy way.
