“Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it in your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in, too?”
“No, I want to eat them now, with you.”
“But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like a reasonable human being. We very likely shan't have another chance to talk quietly before one or other of us is killed, and———”
“She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!” he murmured under his breath. “Then I must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's supper, isn't it? You are going to humour all my whims to-night. First of all, I want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I shall lie here and be comfortable.”
He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the chair and looking up into her face.
“How pale you are!” he said. “That's because you take life sadly, and don't like chocolate——”
“Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life and death.”
“Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it.”
He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips of his fingers.
“Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make me cry in a minute, and then you'll be sorry. I do wish you'd smile again; you have such a d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don't scold me, dear! Let us eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling over them—for to-morrow we die.”