Freddy Farmer shifted his position in the huge leather upholstered chair, decided that it wasn't comfortable enough, and shifted again. He still wasn't satisfied, but he was too bored and too lazy to exert any further effort. He stared gloomily at the torrents of rain slashing against the windows of the Officers' Club lounge, at the San Diego Naval Air Base, and sighed heavily. "I fancy I'll never learn not to believe a word you say, not ever!" he groaned. Hunched down in the next chair, Dave Dawson marked with his finger tip the place where he had stopped reading, and turned his head. "Speaking to me, little man?" he murmured. "Only because you happen to be the only one present," young Farmer snapped. Then, with a wave toward the rain-swept window panes, he said, "I was remarking that I should know better than ever to believe a word you say. Beautiful California? Good grief! Just look at it!"
