“My constitution is made of cast iron. If it were not it would have broken down long ago. Notwithstanding that my hand has difficulty in raising this glass without spilling its contents, I could lift you with it as easily as I could lift a feather.”
She looked at the hand stretched out towards the glass of milk and soda beside his plate, and noticed how it shook, and wondered that he should draw her attention to it. He had done so intentionally, mastering his usual self-consciousness in regard to this physical defect, for what reason she failed to understand. Oddly, she felt no embarrassment while she looked at his hand, and he betrayed none either. He lifted the glass unsteadily and drank from it and set it down again on the cloth.
“I have travelled for a week on a pocketful of dried mealies, and been none the worse for it,” he said. “But I shouldn’t recommend that diet for you.”
“I think,” she said unexpectedly and without annoyance, “that you don’t wish to be bothered with my company.”
“From the fear that I may have to carry you?” he suggested. “You are mistaken. If you like to be energetic to-morrow I will show you where best to view the sunrise. And I promise you that if we miss our breakfast here I will take you to a house where I can obtain a meal at any hour of the day.”
“You breakfasted there this morning?” she said, turning a face flushed with pleasure to his.
“I breakfasted there this morning. They are accustomed to my irregular habits, and they don’t mind.”
“That will be nice,” she said.
He laughed.
“I hope you won’t be disappointed.”