"Well," said he, "here is a toast in the meantime: 'ITALIA
IRREDENTA!'"
The remainder of the day was passed in the same dreadful tedium and
suspense. I laid the table for dinner, while Northmour and Clara
prepared the meal together in the kitchen. I could hear their talk
as I went to and fro, and was surprised to find it ran all the time
upon myself. Northmour again bracketed us together, and rallied
Clara on a choice of husbands; but he continued to speak of me with
some feeling, and uttered nothing to my prejudice unless he
included himself in the condemnation. This awakened a sense of
gratitude in my heart, which combined with the immediateness of our
peril to fill my eyes with tears. After all, I thought - and
perhaps the thought was laughably vain - we were here three very
noble human beings to perish in defence of a thieving banker.
Before we sat down to table, I looked forth from an upstairs
window. The day was beginning to decline; the links were utterly
deserted; the despatch-box still lay untouched where we had left it
hours before.
Mr. Huddlestone, in a long yellow dressing-gown, took one end of
the table, Clara the other; while Northmour and I faced each other
from the sides. The lamp was brightly trimmed; the wine was good;
the viands, although mostly cold, excellent of their sort. We
seemed to have agreed tacitly; all reference to the impending
catastrophe was carefully avoided; and, considering our tragic
circumstances, we made a merrier party than could have been
expected.
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