ALEC.
No, don't trouble. The poor chap's just turned in, dropping with sleep.
I told him he might till I called him. I don't want much, and I can easily get it myself. [_He goes to a case and takes out a tin of meat and some ship's biscuits._] It's rather a nuisance that we've not been able to get any game lately.
[_He sets the food down before him, sits down, and begins to eat._
DICK.
[_Ironically._] Appetising, isn't it?
ALEC.
Splendid!
DICK.
You have all the instincts of the primeval savage, Alec. It enrages and disgusts me.
ALEC.
[_With a laugh._] Why?
DICK.
You take food for the gross and bestial purpose of appeasing your hunger. You have no appreciation for the delicacies of eating as a fine art.
ALEC.
The meat's getting rather mouldy, isn't it?
DICK.
Damnable! It's been a source of great anxiety to me in England.
ALEC.
What is he talking about now?
DICK.
I was going on with the thread of my observations, which you interrupted with the entirely obvious remark that the tinned meat was getting mouldy.
ALEC.
I apologise profusely. Pray go on!
DICK.
I was about to observe that even in England you will eat the most carefully ordered meal with an indifference which is an outrage to decency. Indeed, you pay less attention to it than here, because at all events you do notice that the meat is mouldy. But if any one gives you a good dinner, you notice nothing. I've given him priceless port, Doctor, and he drank it as though it were cooking sherry.
DOCTOR.
I confess it is lamentable. But why is it a source of anxiety to you?
DICK.
What on earth is to happen to him in his old age?
ALEC.
Explain yourself, my friend. Clearly but with as much brevity as possible.
DICK.
The pleasure of eating is the only pleasure that remains to the old.
Love--what is love when you lose your figure, and your hair grows thin?
Knowledge--one can never know everything, and the desire passes with the fire of youth. Even ambition fails you in the end. But to those who have lived wisely and well, there remain three pleasures every day of their lives: their breakfast, their luncheon, and their dinner.
ALEC.
[_With a laugh._] I wouldn't worry about my old age if I were you, Dick.
DICK.
Why?
ALEC.
Because I think it's ten to one that we shall all be dead to-morrow morning.
DOCTOR.
What?
[_There is a slight pause while both men stare at him._
DICK.
Is this one of your little jokes, Alec?
ALEC.
You have often observed that I joke with difficulty.
DOCTOR.
But what's wrong now?