"Why?" his host asked. "It's in my pocket, which will be yours when we trade."
"That's right!" the old man said. "I get the clothes, too, don't I? Kind of a dignified getup. Sure would admire to be seen in that! Here's to it!" They clicked glasses and downed the drinks.
"Now, shall we have some lunch?" Sandane asked.
"You bet. Say, on the train, I'm tempted to order all the things that ain't good for me. If I do, my arthritis will be giving me hell tomorrow. I'm used to that, but as long as you'll be the one to suffer, maybe I should stick to my diet."
"Order what you like. I can control the pain for you easily enough."
"Can you teach me to do that?" the old man asked eagerly. "Wouldn't want you to be giving out any secrets you ain't supposed to, but surely that couldn't do any harm."
"It wouldn't do you any good, either," Sandane replied. "This body won't give you a bit of trouble as long as it lasts. I absolutely guarantee that."
"Not even a headache the morning after?"
"Not even a headache. Not even fatigue."
"Think of it! No hangovers in elsewhen. Must be a wonderful age to live in."