"How far is it to the nearest hotel, John?" she demanded acidly.
"Too far to go to-night, Mary. I'm afraid we must put up with this—this sanatorium," replied her husband.
As a diversion I demanded an appetizer—a gin and bitters.
Mr. Gunthorpe's face lit up and he bolted behind the bar.
"Certainly, of course. Have it with me!" he exclaimed eagerly, his eyes full of gratitude for the diversion.
I had the greatest difficulty in paying for our two drinks, for of course Mr. Gunthorpe would not let me drink alone, and I was equally insistent that the house had done enough for me.
"Then we must have another," he declared, as the only way out of the difficulty.
Fortunately for me, Tony appeared on the scene, clothed and in her right mind, speaking once more the English language, and I contrived to avoid further stimulation. Mr. Gunthorpe looked at me reproachfully as I moved off with my wife. I could see that he dreaded further interrogation on the subject of diets.
Nothing further of moment occurred before dinner. Tony and I went out and admired the wonderful view in the dim half-light, and just as the midges got the better of us—even my foul old pipe did not give us the victory—the gong sounded for dinner and covered our retreat.
It was the maddest dinner in which I have ever participated. Three tables were laid in the little coffee-room, and, as Tony and I were the first to put in an appearance, I had the curiosity to look at the bill of fare at the first table I came to.