When she left, Jo looked gravely at Jan, took a toothcomb, let down her
hair, and worked hard for a while.
Next day we went for a long walk. As we were returning a terrific storm
burst over us. We had left our mackintoshes in the inn, and were soon
wet through. We got back just at supper time, and after, as Jan had no
change of clothing, he decided to go to bed in his wet things, heaping
blankets and rugs over himself in the hopes of being dry by the morrow.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XII
THE HIGHWAY OF MONTENEGRO--II
Jan awoke nearly dry, or in a sort of warm dampness, at 4.30 a.m. Not a
soul was about, and we packed by candle. There was a purple dawn, and
the towering cliffs behind the minarets glowed a deep cerise for at
least ten minutes ere the light reached the town. The streets were still
and deserted, but at last an old man with a coffee machine on his back,
and a tin waistbelt full of pigeon-holes containing cups, took a seat at
a corner. At six he was surrounded by groups of Albanian workmen
drinking coffee, and he beckoned us to come and take coffee with him,
but we were suspicious of the cleanliness of his crockery.
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