That's the worst of a man with the gift for silence." "You're not a great talker yourself," the younger man reminded his host.
"When you get me going on my own subject," Furley remarked, "I find it hard to stop, and you are a wonderful listener.

Have you got any views of your own?
I never hear them." Julian drew the box of cigarettes towards him.
"Oh, yes, I've views of my own," he confessed.

"Some day, perhaps, you shall know what they are." "A man of mystery!" his friend jeered good-naturedly.
Julian lit his cigarette and watched the smoke curl upward.
"Let's talk about the duck," he suggested.
The two men sat in silence for some minutes.

Outside, the storm seemed to have increased in violence.

Furley rose, threw a log on to the fire and resumed his place.
"Geese flew high," he remarked.
"Too high for me," Julian confessed.
"You got one more than I did." "Sheer luck.