Around him were
his reference books, his note-books, his pencils and erasers, all the
neat paraphernalia of his trade. Everything was in order; yet he touched
none of them. Presently his eyes fell upon his open watch, and his mind
went off into new channels, or rather into old channels which he thought
he had abandoned for this half-hour at any rate. In five minutes more,
he put away his manuscript, picked up his watch, and strolled back into
the sitting-room.
Nicolovius was sitting where he had left him, except that now he was not
reading but merely staring out of the window. He glanced around with a
look of pleased surprise and welcome.
"Ah-h! Did genius fail to burn?" he asked, employing a bromidic phrase
which Queed particularly detested.
"That is one way of putting it, I suppose."
"Or did you take pity on my solitariness? You must not let me become a
drag upon you."
Queed, dropping into a chair, rather out of humor, made no reply.
Nicolovius continued to look out of the window.
"I see in the _Post_," he presently began again, "that Colonel Cowles,
after getting quite well, broke himself down again in preparing for the
so-called Reunion.
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