"
"Give me some more water, then."
Cuckoo felt it very cold upon her face, and fancied at first that it was
those rushing waters of her dream. But the darkness parted, showing her
two faces close together, one old and withered and yellow, one young, but
white and lined. At first she looked at them without recognition. Again
she felt the cold drops of water dashing against her cheeks and lips, and
then she knew Mrs. Brigg and Julian, and she saw her little room, and
that it was morning and light. They helped her to sit up. She glanced
wearily towards the table.
"What is it, Cuckoo?" Julian said.
"Food; I'm starving," she whispered, faintly.
Horror was written on his face.
"Starving! What the devil does she mean?"
He turned on Mrs. Brigg, who suddenly shrunk away muttering:
"I'll get something; breakfast--I'll get it."
Julian looked dazed. He was only recovering gradually from his drunken
stupor.
"Starving--starving," he repeated, vacantly staring at Cuckoo, who said
nothing more, only lay back, trying to understand things, and to emerge
from the mists and noises in which she still seemed to be floating.
Presently Mrs. Brigg returned and shuffled about the table with a
furtive, contorted face, laying breakfast.
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