One of his fellow-workers there glanced up and nodded at his arrival.
"Where's the Chief ?" Norgate enquired.
"Gone down to the Palace," the other young man, whose name was Ansell, replied; "telephoned for the first thing this morning.

Ghastly habit William has of getting up at seven o'clock and suddenly remembering that he wants to talk diplomacy.

The Chief will be furious all day now." Norgate lit a cigarette and began to open his letters.

Ansell, however, was in a discoursive mood.

He swung around from his desk and leaned back in his chair.
"How can a man," he demanded, "see a question from the same point of view at seven o'clock in the morning and seven o'clock in the evening?
Absolutely impossible, you know.