“Alone.”
I trembled as I gazed into his face; his eyes seemed fairly to burn.
“How have you borne it?” I cried. “What have you done?”
His answer made me start. “I have done very well,” he said; “I have not been unhappy.”
The words seemed strange to me—but his voice was stranger yet. Surely there were signs enough of unhappiness upon his face!
He seemed to read my thoughts. “Do not worry,” he went on, pressing his hand in mine; “I will tell you all about it later.”
But my mind could not be turned away so easily. When I felt stronger and sat up, I came back to the question, gazing at his haggard face and the strange costume he wore.
“You can make no better clothing?” I cried; “and for food—what do you do?”
“I have all the food that I can eat,” was the response, “and everything else that I need. You shall see.”
“But have you seen no one?” I persisted—“no ships, in all this time?”