He cut a great piece off a loaf, and carefully wrapped some butter in a scrap of newspaper.

There was some corned beef on a dish, and he cut off a thick lump and rolled it up with the remains of a loquat tart.

These parcels he disposed of down the loose front of his sailor coat, filling up his pockets with sultanas, citron-peel, currants, and such dainties as the store bottles held.

And then he prepared to make his painful retreat.
He climbed upon the shelf once more, put his head out of the window, and gave a look of despair at the cactus.

And even as he knelt there sounded behind him the sharp click of a turning key.
He looked wildly round, and there was Martha in the doorway, and to his utter horror she was talking to his father, who was in the passage just beyond.
"Row's Embrocation, or arnica," the Captain was saying.