"What, Mr. Weevle?" says the stationer, stopping to speak. "Are YOU there?"
"Aye!" says Weevle, "Here I am, Mr. Snagsby."
"Airing yourself, as I am doing, before you go to bed?" the stationer inquires.
"Why, there's not much air to be got here; and what there is, is not very freshening," Weevle answers, glancing up and down the court.
"Very true, sir. Don't you observe," says Mr. Snagsby, pausing to sniff and taste the air a little, "don't you observe, Mr. Weevle, that you're--not to put too fine a point upon it--that you're rather greasy here, sir?"

"What, Mr. Weevle?" says the stationer. "Are you there?"
"Aye!" says Weevle.
"Airing yourself, as I am, before you go to bed?"
"Why, the air here is not very freshening," Weevle answers.
"Very true, sir. Don't you observe," says Mr. Snagsby, pausing to sniff the air, "not to put too fine a point upon it - that you're rather greasy here, sir?"
