The breakfaster in the cheap restaurant tried to make conversation with the man beside him at the counter.
“Awful rainy spell—like the flood.”
“The flood?” The tone was polite, but inquiring.
“The flood—Noah, the Ark, Mount Ararat.”
The other bit off half a slice of bread, shook his head, and mumbled thickly:
“Hain’t read to-day’s paper yit.”