“The work club’s started this morning,” he shouted. “We’re getting on beautifully.”
(Confused sound from below, inaudible to Ealing.)
“Yes, he’s just sharpening my pencil. Isn’t it kind of him? He says he’s getting on with it pretty well.”
(Murmur.)
“No, not very far, but I’m in the middle of a chorus, and I’m reading Jebb’s notes and marking them.”
(Murmur.)
“Oh, hours; ever since about half-past nine or so.”
(Murmur.)
“What?”
(Murmur.)