"I want out." Edward had followed Stanton from his offices to those at Curzon Street, and then loitered until the pen-pusher emerged from reporting to his own taskmasters inside Leconfield House.
"Indeed?" Stanton hailed a taxi, giving the name of his club in Mayfair as he opened the door, then motioned to Edward to join him in the back. "Rather unseasonable weather we're having, wouldn't you say?"
Duly chastised, Edward kept up with Stanton's small-talk until they were settled in leather armchairs in a dim and dusty corner of the club, and had been furnished with a large glass of whisky apiece.
I've got a couple or three more sets of six lined up from this story, but then I may end the year with more of a variety of extracts.
To see what other people have been posting this week, go to the website here and follow the links to all the story extracts, with something to suit every taste.