" He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. " "Are you sure of this?" asked Thames, who, though as brave a lad as need be, could not repress a shudder at the intelligence. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. . . The truth was impossible, indecent. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. We’ll have some buttered toast.
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