But then again, Thyrsis wondered if the headaches might not be due to the food he was eating. They were anxious to economize on food; but they did not know just how to set about it. Thyrsis had read the world’s literature in English, French and German, in Italian, Latin and Greek; but in none of that reading had he found anything about the care of his own body. Such subjects had not been taught at school or college or university, and he knew of no books about them. Both he and Corydon had come from families which had the traditions of luxurious living, brought down from old days when there were plenty of negro servants, and when the ladies had been skilled in baking and preserving, and the men with chafing-dish and punch-bowl. At his grandfather’s table Thyrsis had been wont to see a great platter of fried chicken at one end, and a roast beef at the other, and a cold ham on a side table; and he had hot bread three times a day, and cake and jam and ice-cream--and he had been taught to believe that such things were needed to keep up one’s working-powers. But now he had read how Thoreau had lived upon corn-meal mush; and he and Corydon resolved to patronize the less expensive foods. The price of meat and eggs and butter in the winter-time was in truth appalling; so they would buy potatoes and rice and corn-meal and prunes and turnips. They paid the landlady for the use of her gas-range, and would cook a sauce-pan full of some one of these things, and fill up with it three times a day. Then, at intervals, some one would invite them out to dinner; and because they were under-nourished they would gorge themselves--which was evidently not an ideal method of procedure. So in the end Thyrsis made up his mind to consult a physician about it; and this was a visit he never forgot--for it led directly to the most momentous events of his whole lifetime. Section 6. The doctor announced that he had a little dyspepsia, and gave him a bottle full of a red liquid that would digest his food. Also he warned him to eat slowly, and to rest after meals. And Thyrsis, after thanking him, had started to go; when the doctor, who was an old friend of both families, asked the question, “How’s Corydon?” “She’s pretty well,” said Thyrsis. “And are you expecting any children yet?” asked the other, with a smile. Thyrsis started. “Heavens, no!” he said. “Why not?” asked the doctor. “We aren’t going to have any.” “But why? Are you preventing it?” Thyrsis hesitated a moment. “We’re not living that way,” he said. The doctor stared at him. “Come here, boy,” he said, “and sit down.” Thyrsis obeyed. “Now tell me what you mean,” said the other. “I mean that we--we’re just brother and sister,” said Thyrsis. “But--why did you get married?” “We got married because we wanted to study.” “To study what?” “Well, everything--music, principally.” “And how long do you expect to keep that up?”