“See you later,” he snapped, going on with his breakfast as the others filed out of the room.
On that day Wraxall awoke later than usual and dressed with a certain leisureliness. He had been about during the small hours of the morning; and even after he went to bed, some time had elapsed before he managed to fall asleep. On reaching the breakfast-room at last, he was not altogether pleased to find Freddie Stickney the only other occupant.
“Thunder keep you awake too?” demanded Freddie, as Wraxall took his seat. “Cleared the air, anyway. That’s one blessing.”
“I sat up and watched the storm,” said the American, shortly.
“Frightful racket, wasn’t it?” Freddie inquired.
Wraxall nodded vaguely and attacked his breakfast.
“Heard the great news?” persisted Freddie, not to be baulked.
Wraxall, who preferred to breakfast peacefully, looked across the table with an expression of the very faintest interest.
“News?” he asked. “No. I haven’t seen a paper yet. My doctor tells me it’s better to read later on. He advises me to concentrate at breakfast-time. I share his views. I believe he’s right.”
Freddie ignored the hint.