“It seems that there is a sort of hotel a mile away,” said he. “We cannot be starved, at any rate.”
“And I—you—we shall have to stay there?” said she.
He gave a sort of shrug—an Englishman’s shrug—about as like the real thing as an Englishman’s bow, or a Chinaman’s cheer.
“What can we do?” said he. “When a railway company such as this—oh, come along, Beatrice. I am hungry—hungry—hungry!”
He caught her by the arm.
“Yes, Harold—husband,” said she.
He started.
“Husband! Husband!” he said. “I never thought of that. Oh, my beloved—my beloved!”
He stood irresolute for a moment.
Then he gave a curious laugh, and she felt his hand tighten upon her arm for a moment.