She walked on speechlessly.
The scenery meant nothing to her. Roads were merely the links in an endless trail, which ended tantalizingly at every bend and the crest of every rise, only to lead on again immediately. When he called the first halt, at the end of nearly four hours’ marching, she fell on the dirty grass by the roadside and wondered if she would ever be able to get up again.
“My stockings have got holes in them,” she said.
He nodded.
“There’s nothing like plenty of ventilation to keep your feet in condition.”
She tore her stockings off without a word and threw them away, but her hands trembled. Simon, unmoved, opened his pack and produced food — coarse black bread and butter, cheese, and liver sausage.
“How about some lunch?”
She looked at the bread down her nose.
“What’s that stuff?”
“The most wholesome bread in the world. All the vitamins, minerals, and roughage that any dietitian could desire. Preserves the teeth and massages the intestines.”