Julian, on, the morning following his visit to the Prime Minister, was afflicted with a curious and persistent unrest.

He travelled down to the Temple land found Miles Furley in a room hung with tobacco smoke and redolent of a late night.
"Miles," Julian declared, as the two men shook hands, "I can't rest." "I am in the same fix," Furley admitted.

"I sat here till four o'clock.
Phineas Cross came around, and half-a-dozen of the others.

I felt I must talk to them, I must keep on hammering it out.

We're right, Julian.