“Well, I think I might manage it. I believe I could put you in the way of being some use; and it might be the saving of your life, too, for I suppose your food is almost out.” A famished look came into his face and I realised what food meant to him. “Could you? I’d be awfully grateful. I’m down to the laboratory stores of glycerine and fatty acids now for nourishment, and it’s pretty thin, I can tell you. Could you really do something?” In his excitement, he clutched my arm: and at that he recoiled with a look of horror on his face. “You damned cannibal!” he cried. “Did you think you would take me in? I suppose your friend was standing by with the sandbag, eh?” He retreated a few steps and cursed me with almost hysterical violence. “If I had a pistol I would finish you,” he cried. “You don’t deserve to live. And to think you nearly took me in. I suppose you would have enticed me to your den with that fairy-tale of yours.” And with an indescribable sound of disgust he turned and ran up Margaret Court, cursing as he went. “What’s all that about?” I asked Glendyne. “It’s more than Greek to me.” “Of course you wouldn’t understand. I forgot that you people up in the North don’t know there’s a famine on. Don’t you see that when he gripped your sleeve he found a normal arm inside instead of a starved one; and he drew the natural conclusion.” “What natural conclusion?” “Really, Flint, you are a bit obtuse. You know that food here is almost unprocurable except by those who have rationed themselves carefully from the start and have still some stores to go on with. How do you think the rest of them live? Of course the poor beggar found you in normal condition and he jumped to the conclusion that you were a cannibal like a large number of the survivors. What else could he think? He imagined that we were holding him in talk until we could sandbag him or knock him out somehow for the sake of his valuable carcase. See now?” This seemed to be the last straw. Curiously enough, I had never given a thought to the food problem. I had simply assumed that these people in the streets were living on hoarded stores. Cannibalism! I had never dreamed of such a thing in London, even this London. Glendyne laughed sarcastically at the expression on my face. “Why, you are nearly as innocent as my poor clerical friend,” he said at last. “Can’t you understand that _nothing_ counts nowadays. There isn’t any law, or order, or public opinion or anything else that might restrain brutes. You’ve got the final argument of civilisation in your pocket--a brace of them, besides the loose cartridges--and that’s the King and the Law Courts nowadays. The only thing left is the strong hand; everything else has gone long ago. For the most of the survivors there isn’t any morality or ethics or public spirit. They simply want to live and enjoy themselves; and they don’t care how they do it. Get that well into your head, Flint.”