And as he talked on, he saw suddenly that Ferrol was listening in a detached manner, and it occurred to him that he had rather overstepped the limits of a reply to a polite inquiry. He became confused and shy. His reminiscences withered within him. Ferrol tried to urge him along the old track.
"He's only doing it out of politeness," thought Humphrey. "I shan't tell him any more. He's making fun of me."
He cracked walnuts in silence and sipped at the port. (Ferrol touched neither nuts nor wine.) He did not interpret that air of detached interest with which Ferrol had listened to him as meaning anything else but boredom.
He did not know that, as he was speaking, the old years came back again to Ferrol, bringing with them once again the vision of Margaret and those secret walks outwards from Easterham, under the white moon of romance and love and supple youth that could be his never more.
"You ought to be very happy," he said. "I think the happiest time of my life was when I was reporting."
"Were you ever a reporter?" asked Humphrey.
"Oh yes! I didn't buy _The Day_ at once."
He rose and went to a cabinet to fetch silver and enamelled boxes of cigars and cigarettes. The cigarettes were oval and fat.
"I don't think you've had enough scope," said Ferrol, handing him a lighted match. "You've done well ... not as well as I hoped ... but perhaps you'd do better elsewhere."
A peculiar sensation attacked Humphrey in the regions of his throat and heart. ("Most certainly you are to have your salary raised or be sacked.") He waited tensely.
The butler came into the room, apologetically.
"Half-past nine, sir," he said; "the car's waiting, sir."
"Oh--yes. I forgot. I've got to be back at the office.... All right, Wilson.
"Let me see--what was I saying.... Oh yes, broader scope. Can you speak French?" he asked abruptly.
"Just what I learnt at school.... I can read the papers."
"You'll easily pick it up.... Look here, I'll give you a lift back to Fleet Street. Do you want to go there?"
"Yes," said Humphrey, and then, suddenly, for some odd reason, he thought of Elizabeth. He was not very sure of his geography, but the street in which she lived could not be far from here. "I think I'd rather walk, if you don't mind.... I've got a call to make." He wanted to tell Elizabeth how splendid Ferrol had been to him.