with a good deal of pique, seeming to be a man who was not used to being kept waiting.
“Well, how is everything?” I said, to ease things along.
He had started reading again. He looked up as if he found me pretty superfluous.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“You spoke.”
“I only said ‘How is everything?’ don’t you know.”
“How is what?”
“Everything.”
“I fail to understand you.”
“Let it go,” I said.
I found a certain difficulty in boosting along the chitchat. He was not a responsive cove.
“Nice day,” I said.
“Quite.”
“But they say the crops need rain.”
He had buried himself in his paper once