The fog outside was too thick to dissolve, but inside it was warm to the point of stifling.
Arthur sat in an armchair by the window, clutching a newspaper, clearly keeping a keen eye on the happenings on Fleet Street.
Across from him on the sofa, Eld sat with his legs crossed, also holding a newspaper.
He read quickly, turning a page, frowning, turning another page, frowning again.
"The article in the Chronicle Morning Paper is well written." He suddenly spoke up, "It harshly criticizes Clark, calling him 'a puppet of the court, a disgrace to the medical world.'"
Arthur did not look up.
Eld continued flipping through the newspaper, "The Observer is also following up, they're not letting the Whig Party off, saying they're 'Ottoman eunuchs spreading chaos in the court.'"
He turned another page, "You've read the editorial in The Times too, right? They're portraying you as..."
Arthur finally looked up and interrupted, "Did you come here to read newspapers to me?"
