Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. So she approached him with sandwiches. Having secured this,—for he was almost famished,—he said that he had lost a hammer and wished to purchase one. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. Don't feel fussed upon my account.
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