“Have you any water?” I asked abruptly. He shook his head. “You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said. For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I dare say he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me. “What does it mean?” he said. “What do these things mean?” I stared at him and made no answer. He extended a thin white hand and spoke in almost a complaining tone.
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