“I know, I know. Put the horse before your husband. Put anything and anybody before your husband. Leave him here alone. Do not trouble. Go back to your own, no doubt, excellent breakfast.”
“But Otto, why are you so cross?”
“Cross? When a man is ill and neglected, if he dare say a word he is cross. Take this stuff away. Go back to your breakfast. I, at least, am considerate, and do not desire your omelettes and other luxuries to become cold.”
“It isn’t omelettes,” said Edelgard. “Why are you so unreasonable? Won’t you really drink this?” And again she held out the cup of straw-coloured tea.
Then I turned my face to the wall, determined that nothing she could say or do should make me lose my temper. “Leave me,” was all I said, with a backward wave of the hand.
She lingered a moment, as she had done in the morning, then went out. Somebody outside took the cup from her and helped her down the ladder, and a conviction that it was Jellaby caused such a wave of just anger to pass over me that, being now invisible to the crowd, I leaped out of my berth and began quickly and wrathfully to dress. Besides, as she opened the door a most attractive odour of I do not know what, but undoubtedly something to do with breakfast in the inn, had penetrated into my sick chamber.
“’Ere ’e is,” said one of the many children in the crowd, when I emerged dressed from the caravan and prepared to descend the steps; “’ere’s ’im out of the bed.”
I frowned.
“Don’t ’e get up late?” said another.
I frowned again.