Umpt -y-iddy- umpt -y-iddy. That was better. He was back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin to hear him soon. Umpt -y-iddy- umpt -y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on the lawn. Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat knocking out his pipe. Would Antony understand? Umpt -y-iddy- umpt -y-iddy. C for Cayley, Antony. Cayley’s here. For God’s sake, wait.

“Good Lord! Sermons!” said Bill, with a loud laugh. ( Umpt -y-iddy- umpt -y-iddy) “Ever read ’em, Cayley?”