"Yes," agreed Miss Jardine with mock seriousness, "instead of sitting down to a food function—soup, fish, joint, entrée, pastry and dessert, as if it were a sort of religious ceremony! The possibilities are endless."
"And the prospect glorious!" chimed in the Canadian—then the two young people, having kept the ball of frivolity rolling to their own satisfaction, laughed merrily, and even the grim, dark face of the President relaxed into something like a smile.
"But there would be rather a sameness in the diet," added Zenobia, thoughtfully.
"We could vary it occasionally by harking back to the old fleshpots. Besides, discovery would lead to discovery. The constituents of the atmosphere defy the microscope at present, but by and by they may be seized upon and served up in different forms and combinations for the nourishment of man."
"And woman."
"The greater includes the less. They—oh! I beg your pardon! I was forgetting. The old order is changed. We live in the Reign of Woman."
Rather to Linton's surprise, instead of hearing a quick retort, he thought he heard a low and rather plaintive sigh.
"Ozone, at any rate, has a special flavour," remarked Mr. Jardine. "It resembles lobster, and, like lobster, you can have too much of it. But the plants have always lived on air. Man consumes the flesh of beasts, but the beasts have built up their flesh by eating grass or plants. Thus, indirectly, we ourselves live on air already, and draw our vitality from the atmosphere. Presently we may get it by a shorter cut, that's all. So your air-cakes and tabloids may really come to pass," and Mr. Jardine nodded.
This time there was no laughter, partly because the idea did not seem so wild, and partly because they were now close to London, and the wonder of the lighted capital spreading down below was a strange and solemn thing to look upon.