I knew what was going to happen; knew that Evans would feign inconceivable stupidity, the sort of black stupidity that is at command of individuals of his primitive race.

I was in for a day of petty worries.

In the circumstances it was a thing to be thankful for; it dragged my mind away from larger issues.

One has no time for brooding when one is driving a horse in a jibbing fit.
Evans was grimly conscious that I was moderately ignorant of technical details; he kept them well before my eyes all day long.
At odd moments I tried to read Callan's article.

It was impossible.