The morning sunlight slanted through the gaps in the velvet curtains, casting speckled light onto the silverware and plates.
Arthur held a coffee cup in one hand, slowly stirring the still-undissolved sugar cube with the other.
He wasn't in a hurry to drink the coffee, instead his gaze slowly fell on Eld across the table.
Wrapped in a robe with unbuttoned front, this newly appointed bureaucrat from the Navy Department, was biting into a jam-covered bread while holding a Manchester Guardian, its edges stained yellow by grease.
"As a Londoner, you read the Manchester Guardian, rather than The Times." Arthur teased, "Is The Guardian better than The Times in some aspects?"
Eld swallowed the bread and pointed with his finger to the newspaper columns: "To be fair, The Times is actually better than The Guardian, but I want to read something about South America, and The Times isn't as timely with South American news as The Guardian is."
