"Is that what you asked for?" she said half dreamily; "or was it the water-bottle?"
"You are rather deaf, I should think," said the Disagreeable Man placidly. "I only remarked that it was a pity you were not eating your dinner. Perhaps the scrutiny of the two hundred and fifty guests in this civilized place is a vexation to you."
"I did not know they were scrutinizing," she answered; "and even if they are, what does it matter to me? I am sure I am quite too tired to care."
"Why have you come here?" asked the Disagreeable Man suddenly.
"Probably for the same reason as yourself," she said; "to get better or well."
"You won't get better," he answered cruelly; "I know your type well; you burn yourselves out quickly. And—my God—how I envy you!"
"So you have pronounced my doom," she said, looking at him intently.
Then she laughed but there was no merriment in the laughter.
"Listen," she said, as she bent nearer to him; "because you are hopeless, it does not follow that you should try to make others hopeless too. You have drunk deep of the cup of poison; I can see that. To hand the cup on to others is the part of a coward."
She walked past the English table, and the Polish table, and so out of the Kurhaus dining-hall.