"That'll be the matter with us all, sooner or later."
"Let us hope it will be sooner for some of us."
Nigel looked into the stranger's face, and again experienced a slight shock of surprise. The eyes in the midst of its florid circumference were haunted with despair, grief-stricken and appealing. He suddenly realised that it was not normal for a man to spend Christmas day in lonely petrol prowlings.
"Play some more."
"I can only play Verdi and Balfe and those others."
"Well, I'll try to endure it."
"Look here," said Furlonger, "what's your game? Why should you want me to play when you hate my music?"
"I hate your music, but I like your playing. You are a wonderful player."
"Oh, rats!" and Nigel felt angry, he did not know why.