I shan't mind. I may perhaps say,
however, that everybody doesn't share your tastes. Sir Gilbert
Hawkesby welcomed what I had to say about Milton at lunch to-day, and
showed that he'd not only read 'Samson Agonistes,' but--"
"The dinner is spoiled, any way," said the Major. "I suppose another
hour won't make it any worse. Will you be able to finish that
disquisition in an hour, do you think, J. J.?"
"I've finished now; so we can go in to our dinner and eat it. It may
be, as you say, spoiled; but it can't be nearly so objectionable as
what poor Sir Gilbert Hawkesby is trying to eat at the present moment.
That ought to be some consolation to you."
"What's that you're saying about the judge's dinner?"
"Merely that it's in a much worse state than yours. A little too much
cooking is all you have to complain of. His dinner is soaked in
paraffin oil. But come along, Major; the thought of his sufferings
needn't prevent our satisfying our appetites."
"What have you been doing, J. J.? Tell me, like a good fellow. I'd
like to know the worst at once."
"Nothing would induce me," said Meldon, "to start another tirade while
you're hungry.
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