19
'IF the processes of inductive reasoning count for anything...'
Verity seemed to lick his lips over the phrase. In the favoured stance of pontificating middle age, back to the fire, tails of his jacket c****d up to allow the heat to spread over the generous surface below, he was addressing Stephen who, face lathered and razor in hand, stood before the mirror making preliminary passes preparatory to shaving.
'Meaning which in plain American?' Stephen inquired sarcastically over his shoulder, with razor poised.
For once in a way he was shaving himself, Dwight having been dispatched in search of breakfast. Breakfast was awaiting them in the hall on their return from the gardens; but Stephen had carried Verity upstairs with him, protesting that both were unshaven and unfit to be seen—Dw
