'Just put yourself outside those,' he said, handing me the tin.
'But—but,' I suggested with an effort, 'won't you want them?'
'I am all right,' he said, with a laugh; 'you needn't bother about me. Sit down and start.'
Needing no further persuasion, I sat down on the grass by the way-side, and steadily emptied the sandwich tin. Before this was accomplished, however, he produced a flask, pouring some of its contents into a small cup which fitted on to one end. It seemed to put fresh life into me.
'Feel better?' he inquired, as he replaced the flask in his pocket.
'Ever so much,' I answered.
'Well, then, suppose you tell me all about yourself.'
'I would much rather not,' I insisted.
'Why?'
'Because you—you might try to take me back!'