He fetched a jar of tobacco from a shelf and filled his pouch deliberately: "Sorry to seem mysterious, old chap," he said.

"I've just a bit of a job to do.

It doesn't amount to anything, but--well, it's the sort of affair we don't talk about much." "Well, you're welcome to all the amusement you'll get out of it, a night like this." Furley laid down his pipe, ready-filled, and drank off his port.
"There isn't much amusement left in the world, is there, just now ?" he remarked gravely.
"Very little indeed.

It's three years since I handled a shotgun before to-night." "You've really chucked the censoring ?" "Last week.

I've had a solid year at it." "Fed up ?" "Not exactly that.