"One can't possibly miss whiting.

Where the devil are my keys ?--Here they are.

Now then." He sat down before his desk, took some papers from the top drawer, rummaged about for a moment or two in another, and found what seemed to be a couple of charts in oilskin cases.

All the time the wind was shaking the windows, and a storm of rain was beating against the panes.
"Help yourself to whisky and soda, Jimmy," Sir Henry invited, as he buttoned up his coat.

"You'll need it all presently." "I thank you kindly, sir," Jimmy replied.