"Oh—yes. I forgot. I've got to be back at the office.... All right, Wilson.
"Let me see—what was I saying.... Oh yes, broader scope. Can you speak French?" he asked abruptly.
"Just what I learnt at school.... I can read the papers."
"You'll easily pick it up.... Look here, I'll give you a lift back to Fleet Street. Do you want to go there?"
"Yes," said Humphrey, and then, suddenly, for some odd reason, he thought of Elizabeth. He was not very sure of his geography, but the street in which she lived could not be far from here. "I think I'd rather walk, if you don't mind.... I've got a call to make." He wanted to tell Elizabeth how splendid Ferrol had been to him.
"Oh well! It doesn't matter. Come and see me at twelve to-morrow. I'm going to send you to Paris."
"Paris!" echoed Humphrey, as if Ferrol had promised him Paradise.
"Paris," repeated Ferrol. "We're changing our correspondent."