Page:Decline and Fall, Waugh, 1928.pdf/299

Paul put the chocolate biscuits back in the cupboard, refilled his pipe, and settled down in his chair.

Presently he heard footsteps and a knock at his door.

"Come in," he said, looking round.

Peter Pastmaster came into the room. He was dressed in the bottle-green and white evening coat of the Bollinger Club. His face was flushed and his dark hair slightly disordered.

"May I come in?"

"Yes, do."

"Have you got a drink?"

"You seem to have had a good many already."

"I've had the Boller in my rooms. Noisy lot. Oh, hell! I must have a drink."

"There's some whisky in the cupboard. You're drinking rather a lot these days, aren't you, Peter?"

Peter said nothing, but helped himself to some whisky and soda.

"Feeling a bit ill," he said. Then, after a pause, "Paul, why have you been cutting me all this time?"

"I don't know. I didn't think there was much to be gained by our knowing each other."

"Not angry about anything?"

"No, why should I be?"

"Oh, I don't know." Peter turned his glass in his hand, staring at it intently. "I've been rather angry with you, you know."