, trying to formulate phrases to
explain the singular sensation that had assailed him when she called
him: a sensation the precise nature of which he himself did not as yet
understand.

She interrupted brusquely: "Don't let's waste time talking. I can't wait
another instant."

Silently submissive, he took up his knife and fork and fell to.

XVI

THE BEACON

Through the meal, neither spoke; and if there were any serious thinking
in process, Whitaker was not only ignorant of it, but innocent of
participation therein. With the first taste of food, he passed into a
state of abject surrender to sheer brutish hunger. It was not easily
that he restrained himself, schooled his desires to decent expression.
The smell, the taste, the sight of food: he fairly quivered like a
ravenous animal under the influence of their sensual promise. He was
sensible of a dull, carking shame, and yet was shameless.

The girl was the first to finish. She had eaten little in comparison;
chiefly, perhaps, because she required less than he. Putting aside her
knife and fork, she rested her elbows easily on the table, cradled her
chin between her half-closed hands. Her eyes grew dark with speculation,
and oddly lambent. He ate on, unconscious of her attitude. When he had
finished, it was as if a swarm of locusts had passed that way. Of the
more than plentiful meal she had prepared, there remained but a beggarly
array of empty dishes to testify to his appreciation.

He leaned back a little in his chair, surprised her intent gaze, laughed
sheepishly, and laughing, sighed with repletion.

A smile of sympathetic understanding darkened the corners of her lips.

"Milord is satisfied?"

"Milord," he said with an apologetic laugh, "is on the point of passing
into a state of torpor. He begins to understand the inclination of the
boa-constrictor--or whatever beast it is that feeds once every six
months--to torp a little, gently, after its semi-annual gorge."

"Then there's nothing else...?"

"For a pipe and tobacco I would give you half my kingdom!"

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!"

"Don't be. It won't harm me to do without nicotine for a day or two."
But his sigh belied the statement. "Anyway, I'll forget all about it
presently. I'll be too busy."

"How?"

"It's coming on night. You haven't forgotten our signal fires?"

"Oh, no--and we must not forget!"

"Then I've got my work cut out for me, to forage for fuel. I must get
right at it."