I merely thought so." "Anything further ?" He shook his head.
"Why ?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing.

I thought you might have something pleasant to say." "My name is Sheldon, David Sheldon," he said, with direct relevance, holding out a thin hand.
Her hand started out impulsively, then checked.

"My name is Lackland, Joan Lackland." The hand went out.

"And let us be friends." "It could not be otherwise--" he began lamely.
"And I can feed my men all the tinned goods I want ?" she rushed on.
"Till the cows come home," he answered, attempting her own lightness, then adding, "that is, to Berande.

You see we don't have any cows at Berande." She fixed him coldly with her eyes.
"Is that a joke ?" she demanded.
"I really don't know--I--I thought it was, but then, you see, I'm sick." "You're English, aren't you ?" was her next query.
"Now that's too much, even for a sick man," he cried.