And then, as if in excuse: "But I shouldn't have got the story if I hadn't drunk with them."
A boy came to him. "Mr Selsey says have you got the first sheets of your story."
"Tell him he'll have them in a few minutes," Humphrey said.
And when Wratten came into the room he found Humphrey with his head on his outstretched arms, and his shoulders shaken with his sobbing.
"Hullo! What's up, old man?" asked Wratten, bending over him. "Not well?"
Humphrey lifted a red-eyed face to Wratten. "I'm drunk," he said. "My head's awful."
"Bosh!" Wratten said cheerfully, "you're sober enough. Selsey's delighted you've got your story. I suppose it was a hard story to get."
Humphrey groaned. "I can't write it.... I can't get even the beginning of it."
"That happens to all of us. I have to begin my story half a dozen times before I get the right one. Look here, let me help you. Tell me as much as you can." He touched the bell, and a boy appeared. "Go and get a cup of black coffee—a large cup, Napoleon," he said jovially to the boy, giving him a sixpenny piece.