th me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; it
will console me for all the lost joys of life. I d-do hope they'll give
me a bit of toffee to suck the day I'm hanged."

"Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it
in your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in,
too?"

"No, I want to eat them now, with you."

"But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like
a reasonable human being. We very likely shan't have another chance to
talk quietly before one or other of us is killed, and------"

"She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!" he murmured under his breath. "Then
I must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's supper,
isn't it? You are going to humour all my whims to-night. First of all, I
want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I
shall lie here and be comfortable."

He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the
chair and looking up into her face.

"How pale you are!" he said. "That's because you take life sadly, and
don't like chocolate----"

"Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life
and death."

"Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it."

He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips
of his fingers.

"Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make me cry in a minute, and
then you'll be sorry. I do wish you'd smile again; you have such a
d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don't scold me, dear! Let us
eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling
over them--for to-morrow we die."

He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and carefully halved it, breaking
the sugar ornament down the middle with scrupulous exactness.

"This is a kind of sacrament, like what the goody-goody people have in
church. 'Take, eat; this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine
out of the s-s-same glass, you know--yes, that is right. 'Do this in
remembrance----'"

She put down the glass.

"Don't!" she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands
again.

"Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit. When one of us dies, the
other will remember this. We will forget this loud, insistent world that
howls about our ears; we will go away together, hand in hand; we will
go away into the secret halls of death, and lie among the poppy-flowers.
Hush! We will be quite still."