A little bit! I felt as if I could have snatched it in my paws and run growling to a corner to devour the whole of it and to bury the bones for the next day.
"No," I said, wearily, leaning my head on my hand to hide my countenance.
"But you eat some, dear."
Aubrey laid down the carving-fork.
"No, I don't care for any."
"What time did you have your luncheon, dear?" I asked, anxiously.
"At half-past twelve. I had an appointment with Squires at one."
"And what did you have?" I continued, for Mary's face was expressive of the liveliest horror.
"A club sandwich and a glass of beer."
Mary looked at the clock. It was half-past eight.
"Oh, my dear!" I said, mournfully. "It is no wonder you can't eat. Your stomach is too exhausted to feel hunger."