“Not exactly asleep. Kind of cramped.”
“You’re a funny bloke. I been a-talking to you and you never listened.”
“Didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“We water the horses just here.”
There was a spring by the roadside and here the caravan drew up. Mrs. Copas produced victuals and beer. Conversation was desultory.
“Can’t do with them there big towns,” said Mr. Copas, and Old Mole then noticed a peculiarity of the actor’s wife. Whenever he spoke she gazed at him with a rapt stupid expression and the last few words of his sentences were upon her lips almost before they left his. It was fascinating to watch and the schoolmaster forgot the feeling of repugnance with which their methods of eating inspired him. He watched Mrs. Copas and heard her husband, so that every remark was broken up:
“Wouldn’t go near them if it weren’t for the——”
“Money.”
“Give me a bit of cheese and a mug of beer by the——”