"I can't think what you all want to talk about a play for. I never see anything in 'em to talk about!" Jimphy murmured sleepily.
"Go to sleep, Jimphy, dear. Well wake you when we get to the Savoy...."
"Always ragging a chap!" Jimphy muttered, and then closed his eyes.
The car turned down one of the narrow streets that lead from Fleet Street to the Thames Embankment, and then turned again and stopped.
"Oh, is this your office, Gilbert?" Lady Cecily said. "Such an ugly, dark looking place! But I suppose it's interesting inside? Newspaper offices are supposed to be awfully interesting inside, aren't they?"
"Are they?" Gilbert replied, as he got out of the car. "I've never noticed it. Noisy holes where no one has time to think. Good-bye."
"Not 'good-bye,' Gilbert! We shall see you soon at the Savoy, shan't we?"
"Oh, yes. Yes. I'd almost forgotten that!"
The car drove off, threading the narrow steep street slowly. They could hear the deep rurr-rurr of the printing machines coming from the basements of the buildings, and now and then great patches of pallid blue light shot out of open windows. Motor-vans and horse-waggons were drawn up against the pavements in front of the office-doors, waiting for the newly-printed papers. Bundles of Daily Reflexions were already printed and were being thrown on to the cars and waggons for distribution.
"Are they printed already?" Lady Cecily said.