Annette lit the gas and stood staring at him with her hand above her head, leaning on the gas-bracket. He looked very white and mean and shrivelled, and the skin under his eyes was puffy.
“What are you staring at?” he said. “I’m hungry.”
Annette put food in front of him, and he ate wolfishly.
“I’m devilish hungry,” he said. “I’ve been walking miles. I’m tired and hungry. I’ve walked miles.”
“Did you go to see her?” It was out before she was aware.
Frederic dropped his knife into his plate with a clatter.
“What the devil do you mean? Who?”
“Annie.”
Frederic gripped her wrist and jumped to his feet and thrust his face close to hers.