Prev | Current Page 849 | Next

Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Captives"

There's nothing terrible in that, Martin. I've not put poison
in your food or anything and the sausages do smell nice."
To her surprise he sat down, suddenly collapsing as though he were
too tired to stand any longer. He said nothing more. She finished
the sausages, put them on the table, then took a saucepan (also
Emily's gift), filled it with water and put in the eggs.
"Come on," she said gently, "or the sausages will get cold."
He went then to the table, cut off some bread and began to eat
ravenously. Her heart felt a dim distant triumph when she saw that
he was so hungry, but it was too early to feel triumph yet.
She came to the table and began to eat, although she felt no hunger.
"You're married, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes," she answered.
"Where's your husband?"
"A place called Skeaton."
"Well, you'd better get back there to-night--"
"I'm staying in London for a day or two."
"Where?"
"Here. I've got a bedroom upstairs."
"You can do what you damn well please," he said. "It doesn't matter
to me. I'm going away from here to-morrow morning." Then, after
another pause, he said:
"What sort of a man's your husband?"
"A clergyman," she answered.


Pages:
837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861