to the distant shore.

Hermia's appetite had come with eating and she had discovered that his
coffee was delicious. She made a belated resolution that, if she must
stay here, she would do it with a good grace. He had offered to fill
her coffee cup and to bring more toast, but, beyond inquiring politely
how she felt, had asked her no other questions. When he had
breakfasted he took her dishes and his own indoors and put them in the
kitchen sink, then came to the door stuffing some tobacco into the
bowl of his disreputable pipe.

"I hope I'm safe in assuming that tobacco smoke is unobjectionable to
you."

"Oh, quite."

A glance at his eyes revealed the suspicion of a smile. There _was_
humor in the man, after all. She looked up at him more graciously.

"I suppose you're wondering where I dropped from," she said at last.

"Yes," he replied, "I confess--I'm curious"--puff, puff--"though not so
much about the _where_"--puff--"as about the _why_. Other forms of
suicide may be less picturesque than flying, but they doubtless have
other--homelier--virtues to recommend them. If I wished to die
suddenly I think I should simply blow out the gas. Do you come from
Quemscott, Simsbury or perhaps further?"

He asked the questions as though more from a desire to be polite than
from any actual interest.