I'll be back in a minute." I took an arm-chair and addressed myself to the Foreign Minister's letter.

It expressed bored tolerance of a potential interviewer, but it seemed to please Fox.

He ran into the room, snatched up a paper from his desk, and ran out again.
"Read Churchill's letter ?" he asked, in passing.

"I'll tell you all about it in a minute." I don't know what he expected me to do with it--kiss the postage stamp, perhaps.
At the same time, it was pleasant to sit there idle in the midst of the hurry, the breathlessness.

I seemed to be at last in contact with real life, with the life that matters.