Leigh went on eating. "It is excellent bread-and-butter," said he when he had finished the last slice. "I have never tasted better." Hanbury stooped to pick up nothing and whispered "This is not a restaurant," fiercely into Leigh's ear. "Eh? No. I am well aware of that," said the other in an ordinary tone and quite audibly. "You would not find such good bread-and-butter as that in any restaurant I know of. Or it may be that I was very hungry." "Shall I get some more?" asked Miss Ashton, who had by this time recovered from her surprise and was beaming with good-natured amusement. "You are very kind, thank you. It was enough." "I tell you what it is, Lady Forcar, that is a remarkable person," said the young man with the fresh complexion, to the dowager. "If people hear of this it will become the fashion," said Lady Forcar, whose complexion never altered except in her dressing-room or when the weather was excessively hot. "What?" asked the young man. "What will become the fashion?" "Eating." "How shocking!" "If that man had only money and daring and a handsome young wife, he could do anything--anything. He could make pork sausages the rage. Have you ever eaten pork sausages, Sir Julius?" "Thousands of times. They are often the only things I can eat for breakfast, but not in London. One should never eat anything they can make in London." "Pork is a neglected animal," said Lady Forcar with a sigh. "It must be years since I tasted any." "You know pork isn't exactly an animal?" "No. Pork sausages are animalculæ of pork with bread and thyme and sweet marjoram and fennel and mint. Have you ever taken it into your mind, Sir Julius, to explain why it is that while a pig when alive is far from agreeable company, no sooner does he die than all the romantic herbs of the kitchen garden gather round him?" "No doubt it comes under the head of natural selection." "No doubt it does. Have you ever tried to account for the fact that there are no bones in pork sausages?" "I fancy it may be explained by the same theory of natural selection. The bones select some other place." "True. Very true. _That_ never occurred to me before. Do you know I have often thought of giving up my intellect and devoting the remainder of my days to sensualism." "Good gracious, Lady Forcar, that sounds appalling." "It does. If I had as much genius as that humpbacked little man, I'd do it, but I feel my deficiency; I know I haven't the afflatus." "The thing sounds very horrible as you put it. For what form of sensualism would you go in? climate? or soap? or chemical waters? or yachting?"