“If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. To be exact, it was just sixteen hours and twenty minutes. It is just how things happen to be. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel.
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