straw hats lolloped with sidelong gait under their heavy loads. After the heat of the day it was pleasant in that spot to catch the faint breeze of the evening and the wide expanse of country brought a sense of restful melancholy to the tortured heart. But Kitty could not rid her mind of the dead beggar.
“How can you talk and laugh and drink whisky when people are dying all around you?” she asked suddenly.
Waddington did not answer. He turned round and looked at her, then he put his hand on her arm.
“You know, this is no place for a woman,” he said gravely. “Why don’t you go?”
She gave him a sidelong glance from beneath her long lashes and there was the shadow of a smile on her lips.
“I should have thought under the circumstances a wife’s place was by her husband’s side.”
“When they telegraphed to me that you were coming with Fane I was astonished. But then it occurred to me that perhaps you’d been a nurse and all this sort of thing was in the day’s work. I expected you to be one of those grim-visaged females who lead you a dog’s life when you’re ill in hospital. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I came into the bungalow and saw you sitting down and resting. You looked very frail and white and tired.”
“You couldn’t expect me to look my best after nine days on the road.”
“You look frail and white and tired now, and if you’ll allow me to say so, desperately unhappy.”
