“I haven’t the slightest idea. I hoped that perhaps one of you would know. Why should I know what I mean? It’s other people’s business to find out. And they for the most part neglect it shamefully.”
“Shut up, Babe,” growled Reggie. “I wish you wouldn’t talk when I’m eating.”
“Can’t you hear yourself eat?” asked the Babe sympathetically.
“Wild horses shall not drag me to Chapel this afternoon,” said Ealing. “We’ll go for a walk, Reggie.”
“I daresay: at present I can’t think of anything but food. Babe, you greedy hog, give me some fish.”
“And very good fish it is,” said the Babe genially. “By the way, Sykes is far from well this morning.”
“What’s the matter with him?”
“He partook too freely of the anchovies of the Chitchat last night. You will find that in French conversation books.”
“I saw him indulging as I thought unwisely,” said Ealing. “Then it was surely imprudent of him to drink Moselle cup.”
“He wished to drown care, but it only gave him a stomach-ache. Stewart impressed him so with the fact that we were all Atlases with the burden of the world on our shoulders, that he had recourse to the cup.”