“But,” I said, feebly; “look here. I've already been at Mrs. Mink on that subject myself. I was thinking it was a good time to work up to it again.”
“I object to your giving Mrs. Mink that annoyance. Her preference for me is perfectly plain. You are without personal attractions.”
“What!”
“You are too fat.”
“But, professor! On the other hand, ought not the fact of your being a contemptible little dried-up molecule, with the temper of a mosquito and the humour of a codfish ball, oughtn't that—now really, oughtn't that fact to be given some weight in the discussion? I appeal to you, professor?”
“Sir!”
He clenched his fists. It was a critical and perilous moment. Did he or did he not intend an attack on my diaphragm? Should I or should I not be presently seated on top of him like a bolster on a crab?
There is a Haitian proverb which says, “It's when the wind blows that you see the skin of a hen.”
Professor Simpson drew a long breath, and suddenly laid himself flat on the ground, extended his arms and legs and closed his eyes.
“I was somewhat heated,” he murmured. “To allay any mental strain, such as vexation or anger, extend the body, relax the muscles, and endeavour to abstract the mind from surroundings. The effect is invariable. Let me recommend it to you. There!” he said, after a moment, getting to his feet. “I am quite calm. And now, clearly, Dr. Ulswater, clearly, we must submit it to Mrs. Mink. I suggest, then, that we ask her for a half-hour's interview each. Subsequently, she will announce her decision, and thus we will conclude our dispute.”