He'll stick it out, dear, if any human being can.

We shall have him back with us some day." "But he is hungry," Helen sobbed.

"I can't bear to think of his being hungry.

Every time I sit down to eat, it almost chokes me." "I suppose he has forgotten what a whisky and soda is like," Philippa murmured, with a little catch in her own throat.
"He always used to love one about this time," Helen faltered, glancing at the clock.
"And cigarettes!" Philippa exclaimed.

"I wonder whether they give him anything to smoke." "Nasty German tobacco, if they do," Helen rejoined indignantly.