"Eating."
"How shocking!"
"If that man had only money and daring and a handsome young wife, he could do anything--anything. He could make pork sausages the rage. Have you ever eaten pork sausages, Sir Julius?"
"Thousands of times. They are often the only things I can eat for breakfast, but not in London. One should never eat anything they can make in London."
"Pork is a neglected animal," said Lady Forcar with a sigh. "It must be years since I tasted any."
"You know pork isn't exactly an animal?"
"No. Pork sausages are animalculæ of pork with bread and thyme and sweet marjoram and fennel and mint. Have you ever taken it into your mind, Sir Julius, to explain why it is that while a pig when alive is far from agreeable company, no sooner does he die than all the romantic herbs of the kitchen garden gather round him?"
"No doubt it comes under the head of natural selection."
"No doubt it does. Have you ever tried to account for the fact that there are no bones in pork sausages?"
"I fancy it may be explained by the same theory of natural selection. The bones select some other place."