"So that's why you said it didn't matter much if I could see or not?"
"Does it?" the man asked shortly.
"Have you another match?" Trent asked presently. "I'd like to explore."
"No good," the other retorted. "I've been all round the damned place and there isn't a chance, except that the thing may collapse and bury us."
"Then we are to starve to death without an effort?"
"We shall asphyxiate, we shan't starve. Don't you notice how heavy the air is? Presently we shall get drowsy. Already I feel light headed and inclined to talk."
"Then talk," Trent said, "Anything is better than sitting here and waiting. The air is heavy; I notice it now. I suppose I'm going to be delirious. Talk, damn you, talk. Why not tell me your name? What difference can it make to you now? Are you afraid? Have you done things you're ashamed of? Why let that worry you since it only proves you're human."
"I'm not ashamed of what I've done," the other drawled, "it's my family which persists in saying I've disgraced it."
Anthony Trent was in a strange mood. Ordinarily secretive to a degree and fearful always of dropping a hint that might draw suspicion to his ways of life, he found himself laughing in a good humored way that this English soldier should imagine he must conceal his name for fear of disgrace. Why the man was a child, a pigmy compared with Anthony Trent. He had perhaps disobeyed an autocrat father or possibly married a chorus girl instead of a blue blooded maiden.