“Oh, I—er—please don’t bother,” said Mr. Priestley hastily. “We’re—we’re not a bit wet underneath, thank you. We’ll just have our supper, and then we’ll be getting along; and we can dry ourselves quite nicely by the fire as we are. We’ll call you if we want you,” he added with sudden firmness, noticing signs of voluble expostulation appearing in the landlady’s face. His firmness was rewarded. She retired. With obvious reluctance, but she did retire. “This is a nice state of things,” muttered Laura, in tones that were only just not accusing. Laura’s sense of humour was succumbing at last to the severe shocks it had been receiving. It was on the tip of Mr. Priestley’s tongue to retort with tartness and truth that she had only herself to blame for it, but he desisted. Instead he said: “Well, _you_ haven’t killed a man.” If she could have thought that it would help the situation in any way, Laura would have retorted: “Well, neither have you, you silly little man! You’ve been hoaxed, if you want to know.” But she could not see that it would be the least use to her. Besides, why should she do all the suffering? Let him think what he did think, and be as worried about it as he liked. She had, furthermore, not the least wish to hear Mr. Priestley pointing out that the hoax seemed to have recoiled on its perpetrator’s head. “Well, let’s have some food anyhow,” she said ungraciously, “we’re both in the same box.” “And the same handcuff,” replied Mr. Priestley humorously, striving to cheer things up. Laura did not smile. They held the bread together, while Mr. Priestley cut it. The meal began in silence. It continued mostly in silence too. Any necessary remarks were exchanged curtly. Only once did either of them give way for a moment, and that was when Laura’s intention to drink her cocoa coincided with Mr. Priestley’s desire for more butter. The result was that Laura’s cocoa plunged hastily into her lap, where it mingled with the water that had already found its billet there. She drank Mr. Priestley’s cocoa instead, on that gentleman’s firm insistence, but it did not really appease her. When they had finished they steamed gloomily in front of the fire for a space. Their garments hung clammily upon them.