I did not observe it, having for the moment no eyes for him.
"Hallo!" said Miss Belcher, walking straight up to us, and halting,
with a hand planted, washerwoman fashion, on either hip, as Captain
Branscome staggered to his feet and saluted. "Hallo! who's this?"
"Captain Branscome, ma'am," stammered I.
"I thought as much. And what is Captain Branscome doing here?"
"By your leave, ma'am," said Captain Branscome, "I--I was just
dropping in for a talk here with my friend Harry Brooks."
"H'm!" sniffed Miss Belcher, and eyed him up and down for a full ten
seconds with an uncompromising stare. "As an explanation, sir, you
will allow that to be a trifle unsatisfactory. What have you been
eating lately?"
"Madam?"
Captain Branscome stared at her in weak bewilderment; and, indeed,
the snort which accompanied Miss Belcher's question seemed to accuse
him of impregnating the morning air with a scent of onions.
"You can answer a plain question, I hope?" said she. "When did you
eat last, and what was it?"
"To be precise, ma'am--though I don't understand you--it was an
apple, and about--let me see--seven hours ago."
Miss Belcher turned to me and nodded.
"In other words, the man's starving.
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