“Why, in all the world?”
“Because it is the salt in human flesh that is said to be the great attraction.”
“You don’t suppose my leopard spends his time in studying chemistry, do you? I tell you he would not eat you if you offered yourself. His belly’s full.”
“Mr Spots” yawned and looked round the company with an air of royal indifference. His master continued to scratch his head. In obedience to a gesture, he submitted quietly, when a servant [148] ]fastened a chain on his neck, and reluctantly but unresistingly he let himself be led away.
“I’m very sorry,” said his master, looking after him affectionately, almost as if apologising to the pet. “That’s what is hurting his feelings,” he explained to us.
“What?”
“The chain—the restriction—the want of confidence is spoiling his fine temper.” After a pause he added: “As I was saying, it’s the lapse of time. Pets should always be adolescent, and women too.”
“Not women,” protested one, who quoted “Age cannot whither
her nor custom stale her infinite variety.”
“It’s not variety that I want,” cried he. “I hate change. I would like my pets never to grow up. It’s the change I object to. It’s horrid, these transfers....”