‘I am sure you would not do me that injustice. I accepted you in good faith—you will not shame that confidence. This appetite-cure is my whole living. If you should go forth from it with the sort of appetite which you now have, it could become known, and you can see, yourself, that people would say my cure failed in your case and hence can fail in other cases. You will not go; you will not do me this hurt.’
I apologised and said I would stay.
‘That is right. I was sure you would not go; it would take the food from my family’s mouths.’
‘Would they mind that? Do they eat these fiendish things?’
‘They? My family?’ His eyes were full of gentle wonder. ‘Of course not.’
‘Oh, they don’t! Do you?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘I see. It’s another case of a physician who doesn’t take his own medicine.’
‘I don’t need it. It is six hours since you lunched. Will you have supper now—or later?’
‘I am not hungry, but now is as good a time as any, and I would like to be done with it and have it off my mind. It is about my usual time, and regularity is commanded by all the authorities. Yes, I will try to nibble a little now—I wish a light horsewhipping would answer instead.’