What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. He jumped back, cursing. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. He drew a little breath of relief. “Afterwards,” she said, “I should be perfectly content to have everything done for me. “Stop it!. Got detained in the City, and——” Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. He continued tenderly, almost affectionately. .
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