"Probably. But why should she hear of it?"
"Ah! I'm coming to that."
"Is there some more of the story?"
"Quite a lot."
"Charge on," said Sam resignedly.
Eustace Hignett fixed a despondent gaze on the shingle, up which the gray waves were crawling with their usual sluggish air of wishing themselves elsewhere. A rain-drop fell down the back of his neck, but he did not notice it.
"It was the weather that really started it," he said.
"Started what?"
"The trouble. What sort of weather have you been having here?"
"I haven't noticed."