He ate a large breakfast and strolling into the library lit his pipe.

There was his father bending over his papers at his writing-table before the window, busy as a bee no doubt at some new enthusiasm which was destined to infuriate his neighbours.

Let him go on! Dick smiled benignly at the old man's back.

Then he frowned.

It was curious that his father had not wished him a good-morning, curious and unusual.
"I hope, sir, that you slept well," he said.
"I did not, Richard," and still the back was turned to him.