“You are my first client this week, sir,” said the young German calmly, “but I cannot that dooth dake out.”
At those words Mr. Lavender experienced a sensation as if his soul were creeping back up his legs; he spoke as it reached his stomach.
“Noc?” he said.
“No,” replied the young German. It is nod the dooth which causes you the bain.
Mr. Lavender, suddenly conscious that he had no pain, took his finger out.
“Sir,” he said, “I perceive that you are an honourable man. There is something sublime in your abnegation if, indeed, you have had no other client this week.
“No fear,” said the young German. “Haf I, Cicely?”
Mr. Lavender became conscious for the first time of a young woman leaning up against the wall, with a pair of tweezers in her hand.
“Take it out, Otto,” she said in a low voice, “if he wants it.”
“No no,” said Mr. Lavender sharply, resuming his teeth; “I would not for the world burden your conscience.”