He sat down in front of his kidney and bacon and grunted.
"Any news in _The Times_, Mr.Albany Todd ?" "No! No!" replied Mr.Albany Todd in an abstracted voice, with his head buried between the pages.

"Would you like it, Sir Chichester ?" He showed no intention of handing it over; and Sir Chichester replied with as much indifference as he could assume, "Oh, there's no hurry." "No, we have all the morning, haven't we ?" said Mr.Albany Todd pleasantly.
Sir Chichester ate some breakfast and drank some tea.

"No news in your paper is there, Dennis, my boy ?" he asked carelessly.
"Oh, isn't there just ?" cried Dennis Brown.

"Oppifex and Hampstead Darling are both running in the two-thirty at Windsor." Sir Chichester grunted again.
"Racing! It's wonderful, Mr.Albany Todd, that you haven't got the disease during the week.

There's a racing microbe at Rackham." "But I am not so sure that I have escaped," returned Mr.Albany Todd.