"Have you seen her?" Daniel persisted.
"No, but of course she's awful if she doesn't give you proper food."
His look proclaimed his realization that he had never appreciated Helen before. "I'm not greedy," he said earnestly, "but I've got to be fed." He sent a wavering glance from his chest to his boots. "Bulk is what I need, and fat foods, and it's a continuous fight to get them."
Rupert roared aloud, but there was sympathy in Helen's hidden mirth. "I'll see what I can do for you today," she said, like an attentive landlady. "And you are going to stay the night. I fry bacon—oh, wonderfully, and you shall have some for breakfast. But now," she added, with a little air of dismissal, "I am going to make the scones."
"Let's have a walk," Rupert said.
"I've walked enough." He had an impulse to stay with Helen.
"Then come outside and smoke. It's as warm as June."
Daniel rose slowly, lifting his body piece by piece. "I shouldn't like you to think," he said, "that I care too much for food."
"I don't."
"But I've got to be kept going."