“Now,” said Trenton, “that is unfair. If I am not to be allowed to speak to you, you must not ask me any questions.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Miss Sommerton, curtly.
“But really I wanted to say something, and I wanted you to be the first to break the contract imposed. May I say what I wish to? I have just thought about something.”
“If you have thought of anything that will help us out of our difficulty, I shall be very glad to hear it indeed.”
“I don’t know that it will help us out of our difficulties, but I think it will help us now that we’re in them. You know, I presume, that my camera, like John Brown’s knapsack, was strapped on my back, and that it is one of the few things rescued from the late disaster?”
He paused for a reply, but she said nothing. She evidently was not interested in his camera.
“Now, that camera-box is water-tight. It is really a very natty arrangement, although you regard it so scornfully.”
He paused a second time, but there was no reply.
“Very well; packed in that box is, first the camera, then the dry plates, but most important of all, there are at least two or three very nice Three Rivers sandwiches. What do you say to our having supper?”
Miss Sommerton smiled in spite of herself, and Trenton busily unstrapped the camera-box, pulled out the little instrument, and fished up from the bottom a neatly-folded white table-napkin, in which were wrapped several sandwiches.